Our Own Rules
by sunlitroses
Summary: Every story has a beginning. This one came with a phone call. Will/Helen/Declan *Warning: NaNoWriMo fic!*
1. Underground

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: I've joined National Novel Writing Month! And this is my attempt. So, you've been warned. My goal is to post a 2,000 word chapter a day, every day, until I hit the 50,000 word goal. As such, the quality may be - alarming, but hopefully it will give me a good writing workout! Of course, as I'm also trying to write an original work with the same guidelines, I might just implode sometime around Week 2.

For those of you anxiously awaiting the next chapter of Aftermath, I promise it will not be forgotten. If this works out like I hope, then I'll be inspired to write more and get that next chapter out without a hideously long wait. Again.

One last thing - is anyone else out there doing NaNoWriMo? You really should! And then we should all form a support group, 'cause this might kill us.

OH, one last, last thing. (I promise that made sense.) This is Will/Helen/Declan, like it says on the bottle, and takes place in the same universe as my previous fic Tea Service, but that's about where the similarity ends. As you could probably tell from the rating. It's going to be a slow buildup to a solid relationship and while the rating might go up, this story is going to be a lot more plot focused. Which won't be too hard considering the lack of, well, plot to Tea Service.

That's it! Read, enjoy, join NaNoWriMo with me, or just root that I'll make it! (Or that I'll implode. Not gonna deny that'd be kinda cool.)

**Current total word count: 2,322**

* * *

"From now on, we make our own rules." - Magnus

* * *

In retrospect, Will could pinpoint any number of 'starting points.' When Magnus brought him into the Sanctuary, when Declan took over for Watson, most certainly when he came up with an - unusual - method of distracting two workaholic perfectionists*, and hundreds of events small and large that had shaped them for the present. Hell, maybe it all began when his mother was killed or Magnus had injected herself with the Source blood.

When the dominoes truly began to fall though, Will had decided after much careful consideration, was much later. After Magnus performed her best Evil Knievel impression and Declan was left in charge of the surface, with Will trying his best to be in both places at once as the newly appointed liaison. Months later, when Will's responsibilities and Abby's continued work with SCIU and the reality of dating someone you never really see set it, the balanced life that Will still desperately sought began to tilt out of all recognition.

Really, it all started with a phone call.

* * *

"Abby? No, this is fine," Will unloaded an armful of books onto his no-longer painfully neat Underground Desk. So named to set it apart from it's counterpart in London. And the one in New York. He really needed a better system of keeping things straight. "I could definitely use a research break about now," he tried a laugh to make sure she knew that he was kidding. "No, really, it's fine, I have time." Okay, not the moment for humor, got it. Moving on. "What's up?"

Will wasn't dumb, although sometimes a bit slow in the relationship department, he knew what was coming the moment Abby sighed and the words 'I thought we needed to talk' entered the conversation. A fleeting desire to pretend that an emergency had just cropped up passed as he set himself down heavily in his Underground Chair. It would merely be postponing the inevitable.

Instead, he listened, muttering hums of agreement and the occasional soft note of resigned rebuttal as Abby talked. Clearly, she had been contemplating this for some time. If he wanted, Will mused, he could probably play Breakup Bingo with her obviously rehearsed speech. We don't see each other much, check. We're drifting apart, check. We're moving in different directions, check. I don't want to hurt you, I think this would be better for both of us, I hope we can still be friends, check, check, check. And the final reason, her voice turning hesitant for the first time as she offered the 'I've kind of met someone' card. Bingo.

Abby swept on past the revelation, no doubt to try out new platitudes, but Will cut in at last. He didn't really want to hear how it wasn't that serious - yet - or how to become one of her 'friends' to call went the world went belly-up again. "You're right," he acknowledged. "I guess I didn't realize that long-distance wasn't working out." A few more reassurances got him off the phone with a confused Abby who had been expecting a bit more discussion and a lot less understanding Will.

If he'd had time to think about it, this probably wouldn't have come as a surprise. They rarely saw each other and even their once-dedicated phoning schedule had diminished of late. If he had time to think about it now, Will knew as he resolutely buried himself in the self-propagating piles of his desk, what would hurt wasn't the lackluster breakup, but the end of a dream. a picket fence, a baby, a family that he could trust, and love, and come home to every night. He'd lost that yet again and was left with old books and paperwork once more.

At least there was always paperwork.

* * *

A few hours later had Will once more fondly contemplating paperwork. So it was boring, repetitive, and he often wound up with inky hands because, truly, no writing implement worked willingly with those who were left handed. Everything had negatives. Paperwork, however, had never stranded him in a part of the Hollow Earth Sanctuary that he was beginning to suspect he had never seen before.

Upon his first arrival, Magnus had gifted him with a map of the actually quite awe-inspiring reaches of the new Sanctuary. That had kept him from getting too lost up until the point that it was eaten. While Will was grateful that the map was the only thing he lost, it made getting from Point A to Point B without detouring through Points C, D, and E a bit difficult. Currently, he was pretty certain that he'd managed to find Point V.

"Can anyone hear me?" he asked loudly, half hoping that there was no one in earshot. Admitting that he had gotten lost in his own home, yet again, was embarrassing. The lack of response to his call was equally a relief and a problem.

Sitting down on a nearby rock, Will assessed his options. He was in one of the caverns-cum-outbuildings, that much he knew. He was even pretty certain that it was one on the north side of the complex. So, not completely lost. Option One was that he could keep wandering around until he stumbled upon something he recognized or someone to point him in the right direction. Of course, he'd already been trying that option out for the better part of the last hour and it was wearing a little thin. So, Option Two: getting help.

With a sigh, Will dug his cell phone out of his pocket and gazed at it morosely. The first week after losing the map, he'd wandered out without his cell phone completely convinced that he could find his way around with no problems. Three hours later he stumbled back into his office and never again left without a phone, walkie, or GPS unit. This place was ridiculously big.

What was surprising was that no one else seemed to have this problem. Okay, so the abnormals who wandered about maybe had some sort of extra perception that could lead them through labyrinths, but there were a handful of humans down here as well. How the hell did they manage? Will suspected it was some form of initiation. 'When find the pterodactyl on the first try you can, one of us you will be.'

So far, he might pass the test in the next decade.

Abby, of course, had suggested that he just get a new map. Will could never make her understand that it wasn't really just about getting from one place to another in a timely manner. A person shouldn't need a map in their own home.

Why was he thinking about Abby?

Before he could wander further into the madness of that thought, he hit the first speed dial and waited for the line to pickup. That it would was of no doubt. When the ringing stopped, Will spoke before he even heard 'hello.'

"Seriously, have you given my striped floors idea any consideration? Hospitals do it all the time. Or at least some emergency exit signs?"

"Ah. I suppose this answers my question of why you missed our meeting," Magnus clearly wasn't even trying to hide her amusement. In a playfully aggrieved tone, she continued, "Where are you this time?"

"If I knew that, it would be half the battle," he muttered, trying not to let his grin seep into his tone. "Um, to the north, the part inside the caverns. I think."

"What do you see?"

"Our old reporter-killing friend and an air elemental."

"That combination would put you in the eastern cavern area, Will."

"Well, I got the cavern part right," he glared at the air elemental. It was there, it shared the blame.

"Put the Blatella asahjenai sapien on your left and take right turns until you reach the atrium. I'll meet you there."

"I can find my way back from the atrium," he protested. "Honest. I've wound up there so many times I think I know it better than my office."

"Hm." From the background noises ghosting over the connection, Will suspected she was already en route and he was fighting a losing battle. Oh well, half the fun was in sparring with her anyway. "That better not be a hint that your files are stacking up once more."

"I'm completely caught up," he defended with the injured notes of the virtuous. "Just finished this afternoon. Shortly before my unplanned hike."

"Where were you trying to get to, anyway?" curiosity finally compelled her to ask.

"The atrium, actually," Will admitted in defeat. He was so getting an escort now. "I could have sworn that the path I took led there. They don't move, so they?" he asked in sudden suspicion. "Like the staircases at Hogwarts?" Magnus had liked those books and who knew what she could have developed with a century of planning.

"No, Will," she spoke with exaggerated patience. "The corridors do not move. You simply have no lead in your nose."

"I," he paused to make sure that he had indeed heard that last bit right. Yes, his mind could come up with no other translation. "What?"

"Have you never heard that saying?" Magnus sounded only mildly surprised. After awhile, Will suspected, she had just become accustomed to no one understanding her references. "There used to be a belief that one's ability to navigate was dependent upon a certain amount of lead in the system. Specifically the nose. Similar to a compass. I believe that the phrase 'being led by one's nose' originated around the same thought. I could be wrong about that, however. I honestly haven't spent a great deal of time researching it."

"So, it was basically a confusing way of telling me that I have no navigational abilities?" Will concluded.

"I wouldn't say none," she temporized.

"That sounded convincing," he mocked.

"You are remembering to take right turns, aren't you?" Magnus changed the subject.

"Very subtle," quickly Will glanced behind himself. All signs pointed to, "yes, of course I am."

"Also convincing," she sounded just a little too smug. Sometimes it was inconvenient to have someone who knew him that well around.

"Hey, this is looking familiar." Will definitely remembered having seen that painting in the past. At some point. He quickened his footsteps and sped around one more corner to see the atrium beckoning through the open doors ahead. "Found the atrium!"

"I'm by the rose garden," was her only statement before she ended the call. Would a little celebrating have been too much to ask?

A few more minutes of the winding garden paths and he could see her bent head leaning over the yellow roses. Stepping through the low gate, he crossed to her side, smiling when she looked up at his approaching footsteps with a grin.

"The weary wanderer returns," Magnus said as solemnly as could be managed with her dimple appearing.

"Stripes. Think about it," he responded, moving past her to collapse on a bench. She eyed him contemplatively before moving to take a seat next to him, but didn't bring up the topic of another map, much to his relief.

"If we added stripes, we would also have to add other guides for those residents who can't see the same spectrum," she said reasonably, "or aren't even guided by sight at all. You'll become accustomed to the layout eventually."

"Would that be before or after I wander into the night never to be seen again?"

"Henry wants to add a GPS tracker," before Will could point out that it could be a useful addition to the labyrinth, she continued, "to you. Just in case we go a few days without seeing you, we can make sure that you aren't wandering in circles."

"He is not chipping me," Will stated flatly, a hard task when Magnus gave in to her laughter. "I'm not a pet."

"You will figure it out," Magnus returned to Serious-Mode after a few more chuckles, bumping his shoulder with her own. "You've just not had as long to adjust as the rest of us. Not when you spend half your time on the surface. I'm surprised you're still here, actually," curiosity bled into her tone. "I thought you were leaving tonight so that you could detour by Old City on your way to New York."

"No need," all levity left him abruptly. Will shrugged, uncertain why the dissolution of he and Abby was choosing now to hit him. Stupid delayed reactions. "I'll just head out tomorrow for New York."

"I see," Magnus spoke quietly after a moment. "I am sorry, Will."

"Don't be," he attempted a quick grin over at her before returning his gaze to his fingertips. "It happens. We just... weren't meant to be. Heading different directions," Will winced as Abby's phrasing hit open air.

"Still," her hand gripped his forearm for a moment, thumb rubbing over his skin in sympathy. "It's never easy."

"No," he agreed, patting her hand before it let go. "It's not. But I'll be fine."

"I know," Magnus said firmly. "Provided we don't lose you for days, that is."

He was relieved by the return to banter. "No chipping," Will stated firmly. "That's where I draw the line."

With a laugh, Magnus stood and reached out a hand to help him to his feet. "You'll be the one to convince Henry of that, then," she challenged. "I believe it's become his 'pet' project."

"Ow, with the puns," he poked her arm. "How can one woman have such a terrible sense of humor?"

"And yet you always laugh," she mused as they turned in the direction of the main building.

"I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings," he said sincerely. "Then I'd never get a pay raise."

As Magnus formed her retaliation, Will pushed Abby and all such thoughts away firmly. For now, he was just going to appreciate what he did still have.

* * *

* Previously chronicled in Tea Service.


	2. New York

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Day Two!

**Total Word Count: 4, 853**

* * *

A new day, a new city. Will had to admit that it was more convenient to take the tunnel reaching up towards New York than the convoluted overland route from Old City. He arrived at the Sanctuary in the late morning able to greet Anya, who had taken over after Wexford's fiery descent, with cheer.

The remainder of the day passed in the bustle of catching up on the changing status of the Sanctuary in the global milieu, current operations, new procedures, and of course paperwork. By the time Will retired to bed in the suite he was becoming accustomed to thinking of as 'his,' he suspected the night's dreams would involve smothering under stacks of forms to be initialed.

Instead he awoke after a few short hours to the unbearable waking nightmare of insomnia. He tried to fight it, rolling determinedly into his pillow, but no position could push his fatigued wakefulness back into slumber.

Unexpectedly, the way that Abby's hair smelled, a mix of cherry and jasmine, popped into his head. Whenever the had fallen asleep together, somehow he had always woken up spooning her, nose filled with that sweet floral scent. it had soothed him then, but now it pushed sleep further away. He wasn't exactly eager to see what other memories would decide to join the party next.

Will frowned as he pondered the blinking clock. He was a little shaky on time zones, but he was relatively certain that London would be awake at this hour.

"Will?"

"Good, uh, morning?" Will hazarded a guess based on Declan's tone of relative alertness. "How's it looking on that side of the pond?" Sometimes it was fun to mangle a British accent just for the sake of it.

"A bit of rain cropping up, but at least the people talk right," it was a bit less fun when he couldn't see the wince on the other end of the phone. "I'm guessing there's not an emergency Down Under?"

"I think Australia's doing fine, why d'you ask?" Will smirked. That would never get old. "I'm in New York right now, anyway."

"How's it look to be holding up?" Declan asked with a note of worry. Given that it was located in the same country as SCIU, the backlash against the New York City Sanctuary was a continuing worry. A not-unwarranted one as well.

"Holding," Will volunteered cautiously. "I think we're in the lull between the initial fallout and what will happen once the multitude of subcommittees quit meeting and start acting."

"So good for a couple of months yet, then," Will grinned at the phone as Declan continued. "I notice that I've a large file waiting in my inbox with your name attached. But as I've got you on the line..."

"That's all I get? Two minutes of conversation, then it's back to work?" Will sniffed loudly. "Not even a 'cheerio chap 'ow's your day'?"

"If I ask how your day is, will you never say that sentence again?"

"Promise."

"Cause it makes you sound like that Mary Poppins chap while he's stuffed down a chimney. With a head cold."

"Wow. That's really, um, precise. What was in your tea this morning?"

"Not that the movie didn't butcher the books almost out of all sight anyway. Real Mary Poppins would have had it up to here with that chipper malarkey in a flat tick."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. You're a Mary Poppins fan?" There was a moment of silence from the far end of the call.

"How's your day?"

Will snorted. "Well, I'm sure a spoonful of sugar will liven it right up."

"Second thought, maybe I'll just have a go at that report instead."

Will weighed the delights of continuing this unexpectedly educational line of conversation against the probability of being hung up on and having nothing but paperwork to sustain him until daybreak. It wasn't as though he couldn't capitalize upon this later, he supposed.

"You don't want to do that," he decided. "I'm much more entertaining. And I should know, since I wrote it."

"We'll see about that. How are the residents faring?"

"Decently. The last of those going Under were taken by the team I came up with, so there's no one to hide anymore, which should relax things a bit. All that's left now is like the London setup: humanoid abnormals integrated with society, a handful who can't survive below, and holding bays for new intakes."

"Good, that'll take a good bit off our task pile. What's the rest of all this, then?" Will could hear muted clicking sounds. "Proposed rotation schedules?"

"That's just an idea that Anya and I want to propose for both here and London. Given that the core of the Sanctuary is now Under, we thought that those remaining above who can should rotate down there periodically to remain connected. Or at least have the option. Eliminates that pesky feeling of exile."

"It's a nice thought, but those up here did choose to stay, Will."

"Yes, but they should know that Under is always an option. These two Sanctuaries aren't the Pluto to our planetary system."

"Add it to the agenda for the next network meeting. It's at least worth being discussed. Without the analogy."

Will mastered his desire to snicker long enough to say, "Anya already has." The concept of the network meetings always brought to mind the Council meetings in Star Wars. The image drifted through his mind despite repeated attempts to banish it, made especially disturbing by the thought of Magnus as Yoda. 'Evil is the coffee. Tea only we shall have!' He tried to cover up his laugh with a hasty clearing of his throat.

They managed to make it through the new security measures designed to protect SCIU from getting wind of a potential threat and invading as well as those to protect New York in the event of a SCIU invasion without further incident.

"Sad to say, but I've a meeting coming up soon," Declan said regretfully. "I'll skim the rest from your report."

"S'okay. The sun should be up here in the near future and I should go help out with morning rounds."

"Hm," the beat of silence following the sound hesitated, but Will let out a muted rush of breath when Declan continued without asking the reason for the middle of the night call. "So you'll be headed out this way next, then, right? Or is it a stop in Old City with the girl first?"

And apparently Declan hadn't talked to Magnus since yesterday. Or was it the day before? He hated time zones.

"No, I'm headed out your way next," Will paused, wondering if he should just end it there. He'd just have to tell Declan later on, though. "The, uh, girl is no longer a stop exactly." He hoped that had come out in a 'plenty of fish,' manly sort of tone.

"Oh. Sorry there, mate."

"Nah, it's fine. We really haven't been seeing much of each other lately," the minute it came out of his mouth, Will smacked his own forehead. Was he going to reuse every one of Abby's phrases?

"Still, rough go," Declan's rough concern leveled out as he continued. "We'll do it up right when you get over here, then, yeah? See how T.J. goes it alone here, have a night on the town?"

"Well," Will cut off his initial impulse to turn down the offer. What the hell, a night barhopping with Declan would be a riot whatever the reason. "Actually, that sounds pretty good."

"Good, I'll get on it, you don't need to worry about a thing," Declan's tone sounded a bit too eager.

"Um, well, I'm worried now," what was he getting into?

"Don't see why. You already have one tattoo, right?" Okay, not so much eager, as evil. "Gotta run."

"Me too, I need to get an umbrella for your rainy London. I'll even try to find one that flies." Yeah, Declan was never hearing the end of this one. Especially if Will did wind up with another tattoo.

His only answer came in the form of the beep of the call being cut off. Will decided that it had sounded like a miffed beep and enjoyed the echoes of irritated transatlantic silence for a moment before finally crawling out of bed.

* * *

The rest of the day was a crash course in integrating the existing Sanctuary protocols with the new standards, taking down the last of the security measures from those abnormals in hiding who had since made their way Under, and remembering how nice it was to wind up where he was heading on the first try.

It was on a walk through of the newly finished holding areas that the walkie at Anya's hip crackled.

"Anya?"

Easily freeing the unit, Anya answered the call, "What's up?"

Will wondered if that sort of paranoia was rampant in all Sanctuaries. Signs were pointing towards 'yes.'

The staticy voice relayed, "CCTV is picking up something weird south of us."

"Weird how?"

"Uh, involves tentacles?"

"Yeah, that's probably us," Will offered. "Need a hand?"

"Never turn that down," Anya smiled. "Send the address to my phone, Mitch?"

A final crackling 'on it' echoed as they turned towards the parking garage. Will kept pace silently as Anya called a few more hands in to meet at the van without slowing down. Haste was essential. With the continuing Sanctuary shutout from global affairs, getting to abnormals first was one of the few means of keeping them out of the hands of SCIU.

Shut up in the van a short while later, Will listened to the bare details that Mitch had pulled off of hijacked channels while trying desperately to stay in his seat. Marlo had either been driving in the city for too long or not long enough, Will thought grimly as he slid to the other edge of his seat on another jerky swerve. Not looking towards the wind shield was probably a good plan. It was doubtful that he would see anything reassuring.

"So, we'll go through the front," Anya motioned as she summed up a plan. "Marlo wait around the alley with the van and Will?"

"We've got the back," he nodded at the quinterran across from him, who gave a wide grin in return. Provided she didn't remove her sunglasses, Terra shouldn't alarm any of the natives. Which was why she had chosen to stay above ground and help run New York. That and her insatiable love for both hole-in-the-wall cafes and Broadway.

Seal off all exits, go in with stunners, get away in the van. It was a good plan. It just didn't work.

* * *

"Why do they always hate me?" Will griped to Magnus after he and Anya had given her the update on the measures used to corral their newest guest. "Is there a sign on my back or something?"

"I have been meaning to talk to you about that," she responded airily, only laughing at his best glare.

"Oh, we are totally sending him down to you now," he muttered. "Next time it'll be you that gets the tentacle-burn in uncomfortable places."

She only grinned, before asking, "Have you had it seen to?"

"Enough of it to know that I'm not allergic to tentacle slime. Got a cream for the itching," he admitted, narrowing his eyes at Magnus' poor excuse for a straight face. "Glad to know my suffering brings you joy."

"Well, look on the bright side and all that," she turned the subject as Will's finger hovered melodramatically over the 'disconnect' button. "And Terra will be quite alright?"

"Yeah," he dropped his hand back to the desk. "Out of commission until her collarbone heals, but otherwise just bruised and, uh, tentacled. That doesn't sound right, but I can't think of another term for it."

"Perhaps just stick with abrasion," Magnus advised. "We'll have to arrange a hand off with New York once it's determined if the creature can survive subterranean levels. It should, from your description similar abnormals are thriving down here."

"I doubt anyone up here will fight you for it," Will grumbled, fingering the gash on his head courtesy of Tessa grabbing for him as they flew past each others tentacle prisons and winced. "If it didn't turn my stomach, I'd suggest trying him sashimi style."

She raised an admonishing eyebrow, but let the comment pass. "I had the chance to glance over your report. Progress there looks good. Well done, Will."

"It was the Sanctuary here, really," he shrugged. "I'm just the messenger boy."

"Not according to Anya," she countered. "Speaking of whom, I also saw the proposed staff rotations as well."

"With most of the Sanctuaries consolidated now, we don't want those remaining on the surface to get the impression that they've been forgotten. Or in exile or something," Will began his pitch.

"No, I quite agree," she held up a hand to stop him mid-argument. "Even if no one should choose to exercise the option given the current newness of our situation, it's still something we should have in place for the future. And those Underground may find themselves missing the surface more than they currently believe as well."

Will frowned a moment, trying to decided whether to pursue the obvious question her statement brought to mind. Why not, she had promised complete honesty, "Are you missing it more than you thought?"

"No," she answered thoughtfully. "At least not yet. I won't deny that I don't expect that to last forever, though. the past few months have kept us all so busy that I haven't had time to give it much thought. But that won't always be the case." Clearing her throat, she returned to a brisk tone, "I understand from Declan that you'll be heading to London next?"

"Yeah," he let the conversation go for now. "I probably stay out the week here and then catch a plane over there. Give whoever's watching me that satisfied feeling of knowing my every move so there won't be any awkward questions about magically transporting myself across the Atlantic."

"Probably for the best," Magnus acknowledged. "Declan's already hinted something about having plans, are you there for an extended stay?"

"Depends on if they need me," Will shrugged, "but probably no more than a week, maybe two. Long enough to enjoy hallways that stay the same on an hourly basis."

"The corridors do not move, Will," Magnus affirmed resignedly.

"So you keep saying," he said in a doubtful tone.

"Shouldn't you be abed?" she demanded, trying to hide a smile. "Declan said you called before eight in the morning. Isn't around three or four in New York?"

"Jet lag," he mumbled quickly. "Just heading to bed," he followed up, "soon as I get you to add stripes before my return."

"Get some sleep," Magnus ordered and then added with a glint in her eye before disconnecting, "and don't forget to see to your... abrasions."

Will glared at the black screen. She always had to have the last word. Fighting a smile, he moved to follow orders. 'Abrasions'. Bed. Revenge could wait until the morning.


	3. London

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Day 3! So. Tired.

**Total Word Count: 6,801**

* * *

The remainder of his sojourn in New York went surprisingly smoothly considering his first day in the city. By the time he was cooling his heels outside of Gate 13 his tentacle rash had even almost healed. Which meant that, despite the undoubtedly SCIU-assisted pat down, Will was in a fairly good mood as he people-watched with a large cup of a dark drip.

When his phone buzzed on the seat next to him, Will checked the display and smiled before answering it with, "Aren't you supposed to be summoning your fellow Jedis right now?" In the nightly phone calls that had become a habit over the week, he had finally given in and shared his disturbing Jedi Council image. Complete with a wrinkly, green Magnus. Given that she had yet to see the prequels despite Henry's best attempts it didn't have quite the same impact, but Yoda had been around long enough for her to catch that connotation at least. The evening had ended in a debate over who Will would be in that case, with Will rooting for Obi-Wan while Magnus held out ruthlessly for a whiny, Episode 4 Luke. Which made Will think that Yoda had not perhaps suited her liking.

"In fact, yes, but I thought I'd see if young Skywalker had managed to make it past the goons first," he was pretty certain there was humor lurking under her tone of resigned exasperation.

"Barely, but yes," Will decided to let the Skywalker reference go by. "I'm at the gate now." He wished that he had the courage to ask if she was using the masking equipment that Henry had designed, but she'd begun to grow a bit tetchy about him beginning every conversation with the same inquiry.

"Yes, Will, I'm using Henry's program," at the hint of irritation in her voice, Will actually had to double-check that he hadn't posed the question. He hadn't. He thought.

"I didn't ask," he managed to make it not sound like a question.

"Yes, your not-asking was very loud," Magnus said dryly. "I thought I'd get it out of the way."

"Pardon me for not wanting," Will checked himself, remembering the public venue. Granted, no one had batted an eye when the older guy had wandered by to all appearances losing (and winning?) an argument with himself, but it still paid to be cautious. "For wanting you to be safe," he finished on, which was safer, if less specific.

"That happens to be one of my own goals as well," she reminded him, though in a softer tone. "But you didn't experience any undue difficulties?"

"OH, I'm definitely on some sort of watch list," Will siad, "but aside from the extended security procedures, it's been uneventful." Remembering the drink on the chair, he added, "but the dark roast makes it all worthwhile," with a smile.

"I would have thought that the pat down would have been torture enough, but I suppose we all have our own little quirks."

"I did consider tea," he let a beat pass for her suspicion to grow. "They only had herbals, but such a selection deserves consideration."

In the silence that followed Will could almost hear Magnus beating back the impulse to respond. He hoped that she could hear his smirk equally well over the phone.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities in London," she finally said, too sweetly, "that is if you can fit it in around Declan's schedule."

"Schedule, yeah, we have to implement a few new," he trailed off mid-sentence, as her tone registered. "Wait, you know what he's planning?" Despite repeated, almost daily, attempts Will had not been able to get any useful information out of Declan. It seemed remarkably unfair that Magnus should get to know when he didn't and was actually the one who was going to be there. "What is it? I, uh, haven't had the chance to ask him yet. Anything exciting?" A little end run wouldn't hurt anything. Will could act surprised with the best of them.

"Oh, yes," she drawled, "and I'm sure it will be a wonderful surprise. Just as Declan has it planned."

Well, Plan A was clearly out. "Come on, I won't tell him you let me know. Just tell me if I need an escape plan. Or a 'no new tattoos' clause."

"But anticipation is half the fun," she could imitate innocence far too well. "I'm sure you'll be delighted. Do tell Declan to fit in some tea. Real tea," her voice bit hard on the final two words.

Will could sense a wrap-up and, as he still had a half-hour wait before boarding, tried to stall for time, "Fine, but you are now officially a co-conspirator. You get equal blame."

"This is between you and Declan," she corrected crisply, "besides, he said you agreed."

"Yes," Will muttered, "before he went all evil."

"He's hardly going to harm you, Will."

"Uh huh," he was less than convinced. Permanent harm, no. Acute embarrassment? Definite possibility.

"Not to leave you in the terrible depths of this quandary, but I do have the network meeting to get to," Magnus said with a buried note of apology.

"Well, say hi to Mace for me," he had decided early on the Mace was definitely Declan.

"I'm not going to ask," she sighed. "Have a safe flight, keep me updated."

"Up until the point that Declan is disposing of my body," Will solemnly promised.

He was getting hung up on a lot from her lately. Given the usual amount of laughter before the hang up, though, he thought it might be a good sign.

* * *

One long, long transatlantic flight later, Will stepped into the Heathrow airport with the distinct desire to kiss the ground. He was beginning to despair of ever liking flying. Or at least not hating it. Even when Magnus wasn't at the helm.

Slipping his phone out of his carryon and turning it back on, Will skimmed through his voicemail and email until he ran across one from Declan labeled 'Directions.'

_Retrieval set for the same time your plane lands. Sorry, mate, but odds are you'll have to catch a cab. Update you if that changes. See you on our return otherwise._

The lack of private car was a bit of a downer, but if all hands were required the job must be a fairly big one. And maybe Declan would be so worn out that he'd forget all about their night on the town. All week. That was probably a pretty slim hope.

The drive to London Sanctuary passed quickly. The cab driver was pleasant without being overly chatty and Will relaxed into the seat content to pass the time in abbreviated small talk. In spite of inhibiting side effects, cultural courtesies were sometimes an unexpected source of comfort. Will knew that the journey would pass in pleasant non-issues such as the amount of rain in London last week and possible for this week, new restaurants, and the amount of travelers that his driver had seen that week.

In between tidbits of this nature, Will gazed out of the window at the sight of London waking up. It was a different feeling than New York, yet with an undercurrent of the urban hum that was universal, Will mused. Or he was far more tired than he expected.

The London Sanctuary rose before them at last, glowing in the early morning light. He could almost hear the beds calling his name as he paid the driver, exchanged a last goodbye, and shuffled his weary bones towards the front door. Entering his code and schlepping in took all the energy he had left, leaving him propped up on a chair in the entry hall vaguely considering further movement in an abstract sort of way.

"Look what the cat dragged in," it took Will a moment to locate the far too cheerful voice behind the statement.

"Declan," he said blankly when he succeeded.

"I see you made it here in one piece," Declan paused and looked him over again. Will blinked. "Well, more or less. Should I point you in the direction of a bed?"

"Uh," distantly Will remembered that the best way to defeat jet lag was to immediately adapt to the new schedule of time. "No, we should work."

"Not sure what I'd trust you around right now," he sounded doubtful. "Try at least a short nap and get back to me then, alright?"

"Gotta defeat jet lag," he tried to explain.

"That's the best way," Declan explained as he wrapped a hand around Will's upper arm and hauled him upwards. "A short nap to recharge and then proceed as usual. Trust me. Your room's still open," he continued as Will frowned over the hurdle that the stairs posed, "and I'll update on your location."

Will concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and lurched a bit when Declan brought them to a momentary halt as he opened a door. He looked around through the fog enveloping his head and recognized the layout. Or at least enough of it to pick out the bed, which was all that mattered.

"Hm," he hoped that response answered anything Declan might have asked and carefully marched in a straight-enough line towards the pillowy nirvana.

"Hang on there a mo," Declan grabbed Will who protested the halt to his epic trek. "You might be a bit more comfortable without this," he said removing the jacket Will barely remembered putting on. He finally managed to clamber into the bed, momentarily hampered by Declan messing about with his feet, and buried himself in the blankets.

"I'll wake you up in a few hours," Declan sounded amused. "We'll keep it easy today."

* * *

There was something trying to kill him. Will started flailing his arms to fend off the attacker. One arm connected in a lucky blow and whatever creature was in the room with him made an 'oomph' sort of noise. Successful in his defense, he clawed off whatever constraining material the creature had caught him in to begin with and stumbled his way to his feet. Fists ready before him for a fight, Will blinked as the dimly lit room began to form along familiar lines.

"Next time," his attacker rumbled as he stood from his landing on the floor, "I'm sending in something with claws to wake you up. Slimy claws."

"Declan?" Will squinted. Memories started to slide into place as his brain joined his body in the Awake World. "Uh," he dropped his hands and shrugged awkwardly, "sorry?"

"Next time, slimy claws," Declan repeated. "I will find a way. For now, it's lunch downstairs if you can restrain yourself."

"Yeah," Will rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "I'll be right down. You said something about an easy day, earlier? I hope."

"We can figure it out over lunch, but I was thinking of working on the final stages of transferring over to the new security protocols. Similar to what you were up to in New York last week."

"Sounds good," Will nodded. "And low-key. I like it."

"Oh, and I got a cryptic message from Magnus. Something about getting you proper tea? I suppose she knows how you react to jet lag."

"Ah. Right. Actually, coffee would be better," Will smiled wanly. Yes, caffeine would be wonderful. Especially if anything this afternoon was to involve paperwork.

"Hm, can't do, I'm afraid."

Will was certain that he must have heard that sentence wrong.

"What?"

"The other part of her note. No coffee. Something about a cleanse for proper thinking?"

Will groaned. Always, she always had to have the last word.


	4. London II

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Hopefully you all were anxious to hear about cricket? For those of you who actually know something about the sport, I can only say: Please forgive me. And blame NaNoWriMo.

**Total Word Count: 9,233**

* * *

Will had begged out of any male bonding with the exhaustion excuse for the first day and work after that, but as the weekend loomed he suspected that his time was drawing nigh. A foresight that was proved correct for once, most unlike the usual nature of foresights, when Declan appeared in Will's London Office wearing jeans and a jacket and clearly looking for a night out.

"Hey, I've just been looking over this new proposal," he gave it a game try anyway.

"The one about modifying several of the older enclosures? It needed a few changes, which Monique is working on," Declan smiled in a 'cat-got-the-canary' sort of way. "I believe I promised you a night on the town, didn't I?"

Out of ideas, Will gave in as gracefully as he could manage, "Yes, you did. Complete with a few veiled threats."

Declan laughed, "Well, it kept you out of trouble for the past few days, didn't it? C'mon, there's a pint with your name on it out there."

Will stood and then his mind caught up with the conversation and he paused, leaning against the London Desk. "Wait, so all that this week was just to torture me?"

"Torture seems a bit harsh. Distracted you some, though, huh?" Declan shrugged.

"Uh, yeah," as Will reviewed the week, he realized that when his thoughts had wandered, they had gone to what horrors Declan could be planning - not too-real memories of Abby. "Thanks. I guess."

"In return, you can get the second round," Declan offered generously. "First is on me."

"Let me just grab a coat," he halted as Declan held up his left hand to reveal Will's jacket. "Or not. You're really prepared."

"Considering you've been jumpier than a cipher beetle fresh out of status since you got here, it seemed a good idea. Which reminds me," Declan continued, handing the Will the jacket and heading for the door. "Rule One: No shop talk."

"Wait, now there's rules?" Will shrugged the coat on as they reached the stairs. "Do I get to make some up as well or have you gone mad with power?"

"Depends on if you've got any good ones. I'm holding onto the veto," Declan warned, "so don't try anything snotty or I'll take your coffee away again."

Will rolled his eyes at the reminder of the day and a half he'd had to suffer without coffee until he managed to talk Declan out of his militant stance. There had been promises of never telling Magnus and swearing that it had been followed through, accompanied by a fair bit of bribery. By the end, Will still wasn't exactly sure what all he'd promised. That would probably come back to haunt him.

He began to relax during the walk through the chilly London streets. Definitely needed the jacket. Assuming that Declan wasn't lulling him into a false sense of security, this might be a good idea. Get away from the Sanctuary for the night - that sounded almost like a hint of a balanced life. Which thought led him back to Abby, so he decided to stop thinking for the night altogether and concentrated on Declan's umpteenth description of cricket. Which made no more sense than the last, proving that his theory that one must be British in order to get this sport was right on the money.

"Right," Declan sighed as they reached a corner pub that overflowed with the hum of chatter, warm and palpable to those outside. "Let me rethink my attack before we take another run at this."

"If I promise never to go to a cricket game, can we not?" Will suggested, head swimming with words like 'bowler' and 'dismissed.' He fully intended to try and drown them out with beer.

Whatever answer Declan made was lost in the bastle as they pulled the heavy door open and escaped from the cold into the pleasant din of a Friday evening pub. Will was quickly dispatched to snag a table as Declan set his sights on the bar, the happy result of which was a smallish table and deep pints of beer. Conversation was set by the wayside for a moment as they settled in and took that first deep draught that could be felt sliding deliciously down the throat. Mutual sighs of satisfaction were exchanged, spines relaxed, and Will resolutely shoved both Abby and the overwhelming number of details that the pub provided far away and focused on Declan. Who chose that moment to lean forward with a do-or-die look in his eye.

"One more time. I've got a plan now."

Will took a deeper drink and waved Declan on.

"Think of it like baseball. I know you get that sport, at least."

Will nodded. So far, he was totally with it.

"Well, instead of your pitcher there's a bloke called a bowler. Then there's two more who are like batters, only called batsmen, who have bats and stand on opposite sides of the bowler. Alright?"

Another nod. Pitcher = Bowler. Two batters who were really batsmen, presumably with those weird bats. Check. This deserved a drink.

"Did you catch on to what a wicket was yet?"

"Uh, funny wooden sculpture thing?" Will squinted in Declan's direction. He looked as though he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

After a pause, he shrugged and continued. "Sure. Close enough. Now the bowler tries to bowl the ball past one of the batsman to hit the wicket. Think of it like underhanded pitching. With the wicket as the catcher. The batsman tries to hit the ball away from the wicket. So that's really the same."

Will nodded at Declan's raised eyebrow. Then took another drink. Seemed like it was helping.

"Right," Declan took a deep drink, then a deep breath. "Now, if the bowler manages to hit the wicket, then the batsman is dismissed and replaced with another. Like being struck out."

"How do you know so much about baseball?" Will was distracted from the topic at hand as this thought came to mind simultaneously with the realization that he had reached the bottom of his glass.

"Eh, I've caught a game or two. Runs a bit long, though, doesn't it?"

"It only seems that way if it's a boring match-up," Will answered honestly. "Let's let Lesson One sink in while I get the next round. Same?"

"Yeah," Declan pushed his glass out of the way and leaned back in his chair as Will took his turn navigating through the press of people.

Mission successfully, he reclaimed his seat and rewarded his valiant efforts with a long pull at a fresh pint.

"Right," he said, determination refreshed. "So, what happens if the batter, uh, batsman hits the ball?"

Declan swallowed and planted his elbows on the table again. "If he hits the ball, the outcome can vary. If it's caught, then he's also dismissed."

"Like a fly ball, got it." Beer really was making this easier.

"If it lands off the field, like a homer? Then six runs are scored and the batsman can't attempt any more."

"Runs?" Will frowned as he tried to remember if that had come up yet.

"I'll get to those later. For now, just think of them as, well, baseball runs. I guess."

"Are there bases in cricket?" Will asked dubiously.

"No. Just go with it for now, alright?" Declan looked a bit exasperated at the breakdown in his metaphor.

"Right. Baseless runs, check." At the look of introspection across the way, he added helpfully, "You were on the bit about the batsman hitting a homer."

"That sounds so wrong," Declan muttered before continuing. "If the ball lands on the field, but then rolls off, then four runs are scored and the batsman can't attempt any more. Good so far?"

"Think so," Will frowned a bit. "Six if it lands off, four if it rolls off?"

"Right," Declan smiled in relief. "Now comes the tricky bit. Runs."

After another long drink, Will settled forward onto the table himself, hand propping up his head as he tried to sort out the details of scoring runs. This might take another beer.

* * *

A while and a change in topic later, they left the pub with Declan still annoying solid as a curbstone. Will decided that he wasn't precisely drunk yet, but definitely staggering down that winding road with his current location settling somewhere in Happy Buzzed Town. Although the cold was dragging him a bit backwards from that destination.

"Where to?" he asked, hoping that the answer was both warm and close by.

"Somewhere quieter," Declan answered, which didn't really resolve either of Will's underlying questions. "It's not far." Which was good news, at least.

It was also warm, Will determined happily after Declan led him through a door in the wall that he hadn't even noticed until it was opened under his nose. On top of warm, it was also relaxed and, as promised, decently quiet without edging over into creepy. Muted, more than silent.

"Deco," a thick voice from behind the bar rolled out. "Haven't seen you here in a time."

"Work," Declan responded with a smile and a 'what-can-you-do-about-it' shrug. "Sad situation, mate."

"I hear that," the man turned towards the glasses against the wall. "Still the usual?"

"Haven't changed that much. And he'll take a Guinness," he pointed his thumb over at Will.

"Sensible man," the barkeep nodded approvingly.

Will just grinned and kept his silence as Declan and the Nameless Barkeep bantered while the drinks were pulled. They were waved away towards an empty corner table and Will settled back as his ears practically hummed at the silence.

"Nice," he offered to Declan.

"Makes a good change from the usual madness back home," Declan acknowledged. "Pretty sure the beer here even repairs the nerves."

"I'll drink to that," Will said with a smile, making good on his claim.

* * *

It was late hours when they finally stumbled back to the Sanctuary. Well, Will did a bit of stumbling, while muttering unkind things about Declan's clearly unnatural constitution. Luckily, it seemed to provide a source of amusement for Declan and he saw him to his room without any rancor.

Despite Will's secret fears, they'd barely touched on the subject of Abby, or relationships in general, apart from a short exchange before Will added a Rule about girls not being allowed on Guy's Night. Declan had reiterated that he was sorry, Will had answered that he was putting it behind him, they'd had a bit of manly arm punching, and then returned to the topic of how brilliant it would be to have a game that combined rugby and softball in an unholy mash-up.

Will vaguely wished that he'd written the guidelines for that down.

He was about to settle into welcoming blankets when his somewhat watery mind remembered that he hadn't called Magnus that evening. So engrained was the practice after a week that he managed to find his phone and locate the right number before the idea of the time floated across his mind.

"Will?"

Well, she didn't sound like she had been asleep. If she was planning on sleeping that night at all.

"'Lo!" he responded, then decided that had sounded too happy and tried a more dignified, "I mean, hey."

"What are... ah. That's right, it was Friday, wasn't it?" he breathed out in relief at the amusement in her voice.

"Was?" Will squinted over at the steadily glowing number of the digital clock. Yes, that was a small number, wasn't it. "Uh, sorry?"

"Quite alright," she reassured him. "Provided you don't intend to make a habit of it," she added after a short pause.

"Doubt I'll want to in the morning," he confessed.

"Tea will sort you out," Magnus advised.

"That's your answer to everything," he laughed. "I think I'll stick with water. Lots and lots of it."

"I suppose that will do," she acknowledged. "I see that Declan shan't have the bother of disposing of a body tonight."

"Nah, he was just keeping my mind off of Ab, uh, stuff. I'm still gonna get him back, though. Any thoughts?" Two ideas murkily connected in his mind. "Hey wait, you knew about his subter - lies."

"Still between you and Declan," she said quickly. "What was the actual plan, anyway?" she changed the subject disarmingly.

"Pub and then a bar. It was fun," he admitted, a little sulkily. "The pub was classic and the bar was quiet. Good night."

"I'm glad," she said warmly, "and I think I've been to that bar. Hidden in a wall, oddly blue walls?"

"Yeah," Will tried to imagine Magnus in a bar and failed entirely. "Declan took you?"

"Hm," she agreed. "Quite pleasant, excellent ale."

His mind completely gave up at the thought of her with a pint. It created a bizarrely superimposed image of Magnus having tea in her office over his memory of the bar. Apparently some things just had to be seen.

"We'll have to," he trailed off as he realized the impossibility of getting her safely to anywhere on the surface, let alone London. "Uh," his brain halted.

"Maybe one day," she let him off the hook easily. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," she repeated.

"Yeah, I was thinking that it was almost normal," he frowned at that sentence. If he wasn't wrong, that could possibly be construed as insulting. "I think I may suck at this tonight."

"There's no fault in taking a break every now and then," she said gently. "I realize that you've been traveling quite a bit lately and Declan's had a lot on his plate as well."

"Seems like it's been a kinda crazy here," Will agreed. "But T.J. passed with flying colors tonight. Or at least we didn't get any frantic pages of the 'oops, it escaped' variety."

"That's certainly a good sign," she chuckled. "Do you think you'll stay through next week?"

"Yeah," he burrowed further into the covers. One of the best things Underground was how well-insulated his rooms were. Warmth and stone castles had an uneasy relationship. "There's a couple proposals that I wanna look over. Maybe a few more things I can get done." He yawned suddenly and tried to pull the phone away from his mouth.

"I think that's a sign that we can continue this tomorrow. Or later today," she laughed.

"Mmkay," he agreed as tiredness battered him about the head. "Tomorrow. Good night."

"Sleep well, Will." He barely heard her response as he formed a closer acquaintanceship with his pillow.


	5. London III

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Day 5 and 10,000 words! Woohoo!

Sorry for the short one today, but I'm fighting off an Evil Cold right now. So if I miss a post - or if the writing gets, um, SUPER special - it's cause of the fever. Or possibly the NyQuil. But no worries, I'm still on track as of today and we're gonna make it to 50,000 words!

**Total Word Count: 10,159**

* * *

His head hurt. Declan was evil. Very evil. Thinking in his head hurt, too.

"Mmph," Will groaned into his pillow and wondered if he could manage to smother himself.

A harsh rap on the door interrupted his contemplation of death with pain. Before he could locate his voice to call out... something, the door opened.

"Morning, sunshine." Proof that Declan was, in fact evil. Only evil could be that unaffected by the previous night.

"Evumph," he managed to mumble, then winced in reaction.

"I told you not to switch to whiskey." Ah, smugness. Evil was often smug. The evidence was piling up.

Will declined to comment. He hoped it would be read as a derisive dismissal, rather than him not wanting his head to fall off.

"If I say that I brought you coffee, will you attempt to get up?"

Well, maybe not _pure_ evil.

Slowly, by careful inches, Will pushed himself up off the bed until he was more or less sitting upright. Squinting through the hazy light that filtered through the curtains, he could make out a gently steaming mug in Declan's hand. If only it were closer.

"Good as it's gonna get," Declan observed, moving over to the bedside and carefully handing the coffee over. Will inhaled as deeply as he dared, then managed a small sip. Umm. Maybe he should reconsider that whole suffocation thing.

Declan maintained a respectful silence until the mug was half-empty.

"Feeling more human?"

"Um," Will agreed. "S'nice."

"An actual word. That's a good sign." Will thought about glaring. "Soon you'll work your way up to multiple syllables."

Before he could decide on an appropriate response that required a minimum of effort, his phone exploded. Or at least rang far too loudly with The World's Most Obnoxious Sound. When the hell had that been programmed? And by who, Guns N Roses?

The bed shifted as Declan leaned to read the display. "Ah. I'll just get this, shall I?" Will didn't get the chance to frame the word 'who,' as the call was answered and a chipper 'good morning' issued.

"Oh, he's awake," Declan looked over at him critically and Will tried to look lively. "In the loosest definition of the word."

Huh, apparently the coffee had revived his ability to glare. Important step.

"Nah, he was mixing his drinks. Beer and whiskey is a terrible idea," Declan paused. "I did try to tell him that."

Absently, Will listened to half the conversation as he devoted most of his attention to finding the bottom of his mug. It was a vital quest.

"Is he? Was going to ask about that today, but haven't quite worked up to it yet. He's still a bit monosyllabic." Declan's bark of laughter had Will burying his nose in the mug to recover. "I didn't break him. He should be right as rain by the time I ship him back down there."

As Will gazed sadly at the bottom of his now-empty mug, his mind caught on the word 'down.'

"Magnus?" he blinked over at Declan.

"Ah, someone's decided to join the conversation. Shall I hand you over?" In reaction to her response, he slid closer to Will and held the phone in front of them, thumbing the speaker on.

"Magnus?" Will tried again.

"Good morning, Will," accented tones of amusement filtered through the room with the sunlight.

A fuzzy memory knocked on his consciousness. "I called you last night."

"When?" Declan asked, surprised.

"After we got back," Will admitted. "Um, did I apologize for that?" he directed towards the phone.

"You did," Magnus reassured him, "though I did tell you there was no need. In case you don't recall, you told me that you had a lovely evening, that you'd be staying in London another week, and said good night. Perfectly normal."

"Ah, good." Conscience clear, Will tried very hard not to think about his pillow with longing. Lost in the effort, he only caught the tail-end of a question from Magnus and let Declan do the talking. Sleep bad. Waking good. Maybe he could get some more coffee.

When Declan paused, Will nudged him with an elbow, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

"Kitchen?" he asked, clutching his mug pleadingly.

A laugh from the phone had them both looking down.

"Perhaps you can call me back when you've the files in front of you," she suggested with humor in her tone. "For now, I recommend pancakes. They always stood me in good stead."

Will filed the image of Magnus with a hangover in the vault of Things He Would Have to See to Imagine. He was going to have to orchestrate a few of those one day. Maybe sometime when his head felt less like pain and dead things and fuzz.

"Always more of a fry-up man myself," Declan mused. Both thoughts made Will slightly nauseous. He tried to push the images away quickly.

"Oatmeal," he interjected firmly.

After a pause, "Will, you hate oatmeal," came through the phone.

"It's bland," he explained, then shut his mouth quickly as the thought of food brought the original nausea back with some friends.

"We'll work something out," Declan rose from the bed, tugging at Will's arm. "And soon, I think."

"Hm," Will tried to agree without opening his mouth.

"Maybe add some fruit?" he offered helpfully.

At the suggestion, the idea of bananas entered Will's mind and he slid out of Declan's hold and pointed himself where he remembered the bathroom existing last time.

The evidence was in. Final conclusion: the man was evil.


	6. London IV

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: I'm afraid it's half a chapter again. :( Together NyQuil and I will soon defeat the Evil Cold though, so have no fear, you lovely people, full posts will return!

**Total Word Count: 11,475**

* * *

A few days later, Will's stomach had settled back into it's proper place and he'd decided magnanimously to forgive Declan. Evil was likely a predetermined condition.

The gray, rainy twilight found him ensconced in the London Library. He'd started out studiously enough at a long table, but time and the chill of evening's onset had caused him to relocate to a deep chair before the fire, flanked with heavy end tables. The warmth and the feeling of shutting out the night more than made up for the difficulties involved in juggling paper, tablet, and books on his lap.

He had been preoccupied with this happy task for several hours when the creaking of the side door closest to him prompted Will to focus, blinking, beyond his circle of firelight.

"Avery's been at the kitchen again," Declan said by way of explanation as he lowered a tray onto the end table between the two chairs. In response to Will's look of nervous alarm, he continued, "This time he stuck with conventional ingredients. Halfway decent, actually."

It was less than overwhelming praise, but then an errant breeze wafted cinnamon and apples past Will's nose. "Wow, it certainly smells good," he unloaded his current lap full to take a closer look.

"Think he was feeling a bit cold, too," Declan remarked as he poured the two mugs on the tray full of golden brown liquid and passed one over to Will. Taking a seat, he nudged the plateful of baked things a la Avery closer to the man currently eying his mug with dark suspicion.

"What is this?" he finally asked, looking at Declan over the tray.

"It's got cinnamon," was the helpful reply, "and apple."

"Yeah, that's not really an answer," Will pointed out, trying to look down his nose at Declan. It was a maneuver he'd seen Magnus utilize successful on numerous occasions. Often on him. Apparently his technique needed a little work, however, as Declan remained unfazed and looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Try it and then I'll tell you," he bartered.

"It's tea, isn't it?" Will asked flatly.

"Look at it as a way of simulating verisimilitude. Now you can honestly tell Magnus that you drank tea while you were here."

"Then she'd win," he fired back.

"Doesn't she always?" stopped Will in his tracks for a moment.

Flashes of the past crashed through his head. Faces and moments and tears that she would never let him see, only he didn't have to actually see them to know that they existed. "No," he said quietly. "She doesn't."

"Hey," Declan set his mug down and leaned over. "I meant with you. And me, for that matter. Not everything else." Will looked up into the tired brown eyes across from him. Of course Declan knew that - probably better than he did for that matter.

"She knew you before," he spoke as the thought crossed his mind. "Back when you were the Second here." Crap: Watson. Maybe he should have changed the subject completely

"Yeah." Despite Will's fears, Declan smiled. "Watson finally talked me into giving this gig a try and then who shows up on my first month on the job?"

"Magnus," Will found himself smiling as well. "How'd that introduction go?"

"It was memorable," he laughed. "I'm running around trying to look marginally competent and wondering what the hell I signed on for, and then this gorgeous woman shows up in the middle of me trying to figure out which end is up on Susie."

"The abnormal on Level Two? Looks like a worm?"

"That's her, only smaller then," Declan shook his head. "Magnus being, well, Magnus, immediately told me that I had her upside-down. Then asked what exactly I was trying to do. It got a bit, uh, shirty after that."

"Really?" Will tried to imagine going at Magnus on first acquaintance. Generally, her first impression was like an explosion, it was only later when a person was sorting out what actually happened that the reaction set in.

"Watson had never actually told me what she looked like," Declan snorted at his own past self. "Just that she was the Head of the Network and an old friend. Left out the bit about how old, too, come to think of it."

"Uh oh," Will snickered. "And you survived?"

"Luckily Magnus has never had much use for sycophants and loves a good challenge. Still, I would love to know how the conversation she must have had with Watson after that encounter went."

"I bet it depended on whether you would only argue with her or with the both of them. A London blockade of you both against her would have frustrated her to no end."

"Huh," Declan stared into the fire as he thought. "That would explain her cheer when Watson and I rowed over dinner that night. I always wondered why she came in on my side."

"I'm trying to imagine the two of you arguing," Will gazed off into the distance. "I'm basically getting the image of a brood-off. Lowered brows, polite cuts, heavy on the sarcasm. How am I doing?"

"Depends on the fight," Declan shrugged. "Few like that, yeah, but if you got the man going he could shout. Hated doing that though," he stretched his legs towards the fire, "it generally meant that he wasn't winning. After Magnus and I finally came to a truce, she gave me a few tips on that."

"Did you have to sign something in blood?" Will asked interestedly, smirking when Declan shot him a look. "A truce sounds intense."

"Drink your tea," he said crushingly.

Will sighed, then took a cautious sip. It tasted like autumn and apple pie and was pretty much perfect for this night. Sneakily, he snuck a look over at Declan who was watching him with a decidedly smug grin.

"Fine," he grumped. "It's delicious. Happy?"

"Will be once I get a tape of you saying that to Magnus," Declan said honestly.

"No blackmail material," Will warned.

"Buzz kill," Declan didn't seem too worried by the order, though, and turned his attention to his own neglected mug. After a few moments of mutual enjoyment, he spoke again without turning from the fire, "So, what have you been up to all evening?"

"Figuring out the parameters for that new proposal Monique turned over today. We need to negotiate between the supposed need for fewer holding facilities with the new system and the possibility of an unexpected flood of intakes at some point, or perhaps a backup in the system due to governmental proceedings," Will moved his mug to his right hand as he grabbed his notes. "So I've been analyzing past statistics to give us a better idea of intake volume over time and what we should be prepared to accommodate."

"Fluctuations due to the collapse of Hollow Earth will skew things as well," Declan added. "Fork over those reports and I'll give you a hand."

"I never say no to someone willing to take on paperwork," Will vowed and started shuffling through his collection. "You know, I get that Magnus is all anti-digital-age, she's Victorian, but what's your excuse?"

"We're working on it," Declan set his mug aside to accept the stack of reports. "But we do have the better part of a century to digitize and the task of keeping the old records preserved. It's a work in progress."

"Magnus is insisting on both Underground, too," Will smirked. "Henry's still tilting at that windmill."

"Better him than us," Declan grinned.

"Amen to that," Will echoed fervently.

Silence, not heavy, but content, settled over the library like the warmth from the fire. The only sounds were the pleasant rustle of paper, the scratch of pens after Declan stole one from Will, and the crackling of logs shifting in the fireplace set to the muted counterpoint of the rain pouring against the windows.


	7. London V

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: We're back to full updates! (And the Evil Cold is almost vanquished. Also exciting.)

**Total Word Count: 13,521**

* * *

Despite the distraction of Declan and his evil plots, Will found that Abby had crept back into his thoughts and made her presence known from time to time. Monique would make a joke that she would have laughed at or he would wonder about her take on the latest protocol or Abnormal and there she would be, in his head, real as life.

It was getting to be annoying.

The day before he intended to head back Underground and he couldn't concentrate to save his life. Granted, they had put everything essential in place and now it was just vetting future projects, still Will frowned at the page that he'd read at least three times. He needed to work, it was better than thinking about... things.

Abby.

Yeah, that thing.

Annoyed, he leaned back in his London Chair, tossing his pen to roll across the collection of papers and books littering his desk. This was getting him nowhere. Okay, Dr. Zimmerman, patient shows signs of irritability, poor concentration, restlessness, and insomnia, verdict? The patient really needs to stop avoiding whatever he doesn't want to think about.

Abruptly, Will stood and crossed to the door, snagging his jacket on the way. If he couldn't work, then he could walk. At least, he'd be doing something. Shooting a quick text to Declan that he was heading out, he passed through the front gates and blindly picked a direction.

Alright, he grimly addressed himself as he hit a steady walking pace down the street, you want to think? Have at it.

Strangely, Will's mind went blank after that, as though by giving it permission to roam he'd thrown it out of gear. For several blocks his mind was filled with no more than the slight whistle of the wind, fleeting details of passersby, and the smells of the city.

So, he needed to get over Abby, he tried out in the fragile emptiness of his thoughts. Easier thought than done, he loved her. Had loved her. Hell, still loved her. What had she said after the parasite attacked her? That their relationship was disaster proofed, that nothing would force them apart.

Except, apparently, each other.

He'd trusted that statement, trusted her, and now here he was alone on the London streets. He felt hurt. More than that, he felt betrayed.

He knew that wasn't fair, they hadn't been seeing much of one another and had grown apart. It was natural for her to feel the distance and grow closer to someone who was actually around. It was logically. But it still hurt.

Maybe he was cursed, Will considered morosely, pausing on a corner to wait on a passing car. Maybe, he continued across the street, maybe it's better that she left now before something worse happened to her. After all, he was the one used to people leaving.

Shut up, he grimaced, sternly redirecting his thoughts. This is not about whining, this is about moving on. What do I need to do for that to happen? How can I speed it up?

On that thought, Will coughed out a laugh, then hurriedly glanced around to make sure that no one was nearby. Just what he needed, to be labeled that Crazy Guy on the street laughing to himself. It was funny, though. How many times had he sat across from patients who wanted to be better right away and demanded that he fix them now? Like all he had to do was whip out the Super Glue. Real life wasn't so easy.

Okay, he'd give himself the same lecture as his patients always got: You can't rush healing. You've got to allow yourself to mourn and accept and reach some closure, then you'll begin to heal. And it won't be fast. It's a process. But it's better to do it slowly and get it right, then to force yourself through something too fast and not heal at all.

Buried hurts had a way of coming back to haunt a person.

Well, he'd stopped trying to run away from this conversation, so that was a positive Step One. Step Two? Mourning. That was the one that made him a little leery. It wasn't as though he had time to fall apart, juggling three Sanctuaries. Still, Declan had seemed pretty open to talking about it before Will shut him down. And he could let himself remember Abby when she crossed his mind, instead of trying to barricade her behind a vaulted door in the back of his head.

And when he got back Underground maybe he could deal with that box of her things that he'd shoved to the back of his wardrobe. At some point.

Will slowed to a stop and stared hard at the gutter sunning alongside the curb. Well, this was a start. Though, he glanced around at the unfamiliar shops marching down an unknown street, he no longer knew where he was anymore. Looking around to spot something remotely familiar, he realized that he'd halted in front of a bakery with, he sniffed, coffee for sale. And some incredibly delicious looking pastries in the window.

It was a sign, Will decided resolutely. A sign that he really needed to buy some coffee. And a pastry. Or two.

* * *

"Hey, Declan?" Will rapped on the door frame, smiling nervously as the man in question looked up. "I'm headed back Down tomorrow and, uh, if you had some time, I was thinking. Uh, want some tea?"

Declan blinked, before staring at the tray in Will's hands incredulously. "Did you say tea?"

"Yeah, it's some of that cinnamon apple stuff. I thought I'd take some Down to Magnus, too. Once she stops accusing me of being a pod person, I think she'll like it."

Nodding, Declan motioned Will into his office, "Probably. Though I'll have to field a call about what I did to you while you were here."

Snickering, Will set the tray on the low table to the side of the office, taking a seat as Declan pushed back from the desk to join him.

For a few moments, small conversation filled the air. Cups being poured and inquiries regarding sugar, cream, and where the amazing pastries had come from kept the momentum going until they ran out of conventions and settled back into a comfortable, but charged silence.

"Sorry for jumping in here, but I get the feeling that you aren't just here for the tea," Declan broke the quiet casually.

"No," Will laughed. "I guess not. I just don't know quite what to say. Or how to say it? If that makes sense."

"Right," Declan looked at him, considering. "Take a sip of tea, a deep breath, and then just spill it."

Dubiously, Will hesitated a moment before shrugging and following the suggestions. Gulp of tea, deep breath, "Am I supposed to be alone?"

He blinked at the words falling out of his mouth. That hadn't been what he meant to ask at all. Had it?

"I didn't mean," he ran a hand through his hair. "I was going to ask how you got over break ups. But that seems a little anticlimactic now."

"So, which one do you want me to answer?" Declan asked calmly.

"Uh, both? Maybe. I think they might be tied together. Or the same question. I don't know."

"I'm not all that wise, Will," Declan warned. "I take it this is about Abby?"

"Yes," Will agreed, before reconsidering. "And no. I mean, obviously that's why I'm asking, but I think it's a little bigger than that. Or maybe I'm just blowing this out of proportion."

"Then it's about Clara, too," Declan said, quietly.

"Yeah," Will blinked hard. "And Meg. Uh, she was before Clara," he added by way of explanation. "I guess it's just this pattern I see repeating. Maybe Magnus is right, maybe a balanced life just isn't on the cards. Which is what I wanted to ask you, I think," he realized. "Do you feel like you're, I don't know, missing out on something?"

"I chose to be here, Will. If I was unhappy, I'd leave. That being said," Declan paused a moment in thought. "Would I turn down a good relationship if I found myself in one? No. I'd take a chance on it working out. But with us," he motioned to take in not only the two of them, but the whole of the Sanctuary, "there's always going to be, well, a hell of a lot going on. It'd take a strong relationship to weather the roadblocks this all can pose. Sounds like you're trying to decide if it's worth it. Which isn't something I can tell you."

"Can't you have both?" Will asked, a little desperately. "I don't want to leave, but I want a normal life, too. Love, kids, someone to come home to at the end of a long day of evading SCIU."

"It's possible," Declan looked troubled, "but definitely not easy. You may have to choose, Will. Not right away," he hurried to say. "Not like there's a deadline or something. But you should think about the possibility. Then decide what you want to do. You can wait, or leave, or decide it's worth it to you, or some other option."

"There's no guarantee I'd find a healthy relationship if I left," Will said soberly. "I tried that before. And I was miserable. I don't want to leave, I know that much."

"Then I guess you have half your answer," Declan toasted him with a mug.

Will raised his own in response, then frowned into it's depths for a moment. "Guess I do," he repeated quietly, before taking a drink.

* * *

Later that evening, after they'd navigated away from choppy waters onto a more cheerful conversational reef, Will left Declan finishing out a last batch of paperwork and headed for his London Room. Shutting the door behind himself, Will moved absentmindedly through the steps of his nightly routine. Rubbing lingering water droplets off of his face, he caught his eyes in the mirror and held them as he leaned against the sink.

You're staying, he thought to his reflection. "You're staying," Will tried out loud, to see how it felt. Weird, actually, to be talking to himself. He caught his eyes darting around to make sure that no one could hear him. Rolling his eyes, he looked back at the mirror. Had him staying ever really been in doubt? He'd been lost before the Sanctuary and where would he even go?

Frowning he considered his skill set. Well, he might make a kick-ass private eye. Grinning, he spent several long moments picturing himself in a fedora and trench coat, roaming the streets of a dark city to puzzle out it's secrets. Dismissing the picture with another grin and a shake of his head, he tried to focus.

Even if he could find another job - the image of a fedora kept floating through his mind - it wouldn't be the same. He loved his job. Will considered that thought with fond surprise. Probably, he should have realized this before now, but he'd never allowed himself to give it much thought. Still, he got to work with cool creatures, he had friends who didn't think he was a nut job, his boss had actually known the real Sherlock Holmes and, moreover, seemed inclined to put up with his freakouts, theories, and dark sense of humor. Despite the occasional hiccup, like dying or taking on world powers, he loved his job.

Feeling more settled with this realization, Will exited the bathroom, flicked off the lights, and crawled under his mountain of blankets. Of course, this didn't solve his whole life-balance dilemma, but this felt like a step. A positive one. It was like a quest! Groaning at his own nerdiness, Will reflected that he was getting some rest none too soon.

Maybe it was more like a case, he thought sleepily, burying his face into a pillow. One dropped on his desk by a blue-eyed dame with dark hair and legs that wouldn't end. He drifted off to dreams of wearing a fedora and prowling Old City for clues, losing his way on back streets only to turn up exactly where he needed to be after all.


	8. Dreamland

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: I've got no answer for this. Because I couldn't not? I admit that I fully deserve any and all eye rolls for this one. [But, come on, Sanctuary meets film noir? Kinda cool, isn't it? :)]

**Total Word Count: 15,766**

* * *

_It was a hard life on the mean streets of Old City. Hard, like the hearts of those behind the cases that dropped on his desk every week._

_Well, every week or so.  
_

_Truth be told, PI Zimmerman thought as he rolled his desk chair back to look out through the slits in the blinds, given the lack of cases he'd seen over the past weeks, hearts in the City could stand to be a little harder. It was between the train of this thought and the next one - which concerned the bottle of whiskey hidden in his bottom drawer - that he heard the creak of the outer door opening.  
_

_"Hello?" It was a dame's voice. Soft, but with an accent. So what was a British doll doing on Old Zimmerman's doorstep?  
_

_He hauled his bones out of the chair piecemeal and went to stand in the doorway to get an eyeful. And boy, did he ever. Doll was right on the money, from her killer legs right on up to those wide blue eyes.  
_

_"Are you the PI, Will Zimmerman?" she asked, taking a step across the threshold. "I need your help."  
_

_Unfortunately, he had an ironclad policy about canoodling with the clientele. Though in this case, maybe he should look into getting that amended.  
_

_"That's me," he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. "What's got you in a twist, sweetheart?"  
_

_"My name's Helen Magnus," the dame said, a bit pointedly. "And I'm given to understand you can find things that no one else can, am I correct?"  
_

_"That's the rumor," he paused a moment, "Miss Magnus. What'd you happen to lose?"  
_

_"Doctor, actually," she stepped completely into the room, turning around to shut the door behind herself. "And I've lost my... dog."  
_

_"A pooch on the run, Doc?" Zimmerman shrugged into the hard wood of the frame. "Easy money would be on the dog catchers. Don't need a fella like me for that."  
_

_"I did try them, but this is a rather special dog, Mr. Zimmerman." The dame hesitated for a moment, "You see he's rather large. Part wolf, to be exact."  
_

_"That would put the catchers on the hop," he admitted. "So's what d'you think I can do, that they can't?"_

_"If they found him, they'd just kill him," she explained earnestly, those blue eyes locking on him relentlessly. "Whereas if you find him, then I can convince him to come home. He'll recognize me, that is," the Doc finished hurriedly.  
_

_Maybe it was the eyes, maybe it was the legs, maybe he just needed the dough, but Zimmerman found himself taking the job. One day, he'd learn how to resist a doll in distress.  
_

_"Once you find him, just leave a message with the gentleman at this number," she pressed a folded bit of paper into his hand, "and I'll come right away."  
_

_"One pooch, one ring, got it Doc," he winked against his better judgement. Though if that slit in her skirt went any higher, judgement wouldn't have much of a say in the matter at all.  
_

_"Oh," she turned back as he was appreciating her walk towards the door, "I forgot. It's most imperative that you find him tonight. He's sick," she explained at his skeptical look. "I'm afraid that if you don't find him by dawn, it might be too late."  
_

_"With a time limit like that, there's no promises," he warned, then gave in again as the lower of her perfectly red lips turned downwards, "but I'll do my best, sweetheart."  
_

_"I know you will," she said warmly, those full lips rising into a heart-breaker's smile. "I'll be waiting on that call."  
_

_The door closed behind her before he'd even caught his breath, but by then he'd been had, good and truly. Never trust a dame, Zimmerman, he berated himself as he tossed his old trench coat on to ward off the City's chill. Never leads to nothin' but trouble.  
_

_Leastways he knew where to track down this particular brand of trouble. If there was a wolf prowling the City, then he knew just the man to see. Grabbing his once-snappy fedora from the rack near the door, he headed out into the night._

* * *

_MacRae's Pub was overflowing that night. Made sense, given the full moon overhead and the sharp wind down below. Still, it meant a wait at the bar for Ol' Deco to work his way free of the crowd long enough to have a leg of jabber.  
_

_"The usual?" brought Zimmerman back from scrutinizing the pub patrons to find MacRae at his elbow with a heavy pint glass and a welcoming smile._

_"On the job," he turned down reluctantly. "Hopin' you could pass a bit of help, though."  
_

_"Something fishy?" the barman's normally sober yet cheering expression turned wary. Couldn't blame the fella, if he started turning snitch on the lowlifes and hucksters he knew, his pub would shutdown inside of a week.  
_

_"Would I do that to you?" he smiled charmingly. Deco knew better, the man saw him more than his gal ever had. Better listener, too. With a better smile. But he was on a job and needed to focus on the mark. Hell of a night. "Just something odd."  
_

_"In this town?" Relieved, MacRae set to wiping out a nearby mug. "Shorter list would be what's on the up."  
_

_"This would be out of the gates even for the City," Zimmerman leaned further over the bar. "Anyone spinning a tale about a wolf struttin' through the streets tonight?"  
_

_"Huh," his wiping slowed as Deco gave a considering look. "Y'mean Lucky was right about somethin' in his undoubtedly short life?"  
_

_"Maybe so," he glanced around to try and catch a glimpse of the notoriously ill-fated shmoe. "What's he been saying?"  
_

_"Just that he saw a wolf on his way over. Scared him enough that he needed four pints and a hearty toss back to get out on the streets again."  
_

_"Damn," Zimmerman cursed. "Then I missed him."  
_

_"By at least an hour," MacRae confirmed.  
_

_"Where'd he see it at?"  
_

_"On his way in, corner of Elm and 32nd. Far as he knows it was heading west, which is why he legged it east. And here."  
_

_"Guess it's as good a place as any to start," he slid a bit of dough across the bar. "If you hear anything hot, I'd appreciate it if you gave my place a call. I'll get the message."  
_

_"Thought Freelander was done with being your answering service?" MacRae grinned. The showdowns between him and the landlord's gal were well-known.  
_

_"She complains, but she keeps on doing it. What's a fella to do?" he let a grin twist his features in return then headed towards the door. Pulling his fedora further over his face, he faded into the night once more._

* * *

_Midnight and not a clue to his name. Discouraged, Zimmerman turned towards his stomping ground, slumping into the barely warm foyer as the clock struck.  
_

_"You. Detective."  
_

_Never had he been so glad to see an angry dame in his life. If she had her girdle in a twist, it meant Deco hadn't let him down. He had a lead. Now he just needed to get it away from the coppery doll who looked as like to knock his lights out as to pass on a message.  
_

_"My fair Miss Freelander," he tried his best smile.  
_

_"Don't you pull any of your slick with me, buster," she stomped over to him, waving a note in his direction. "You think I'm your secretary or something? This is the last time and I'm not blowing smoke!"  
_

_"Loud and clear, doll face," he snatched the note from her hand before any harm could fall upon it. "Got the message. Loud and Clear."  
_

_He missed her rebuttal as his eyes fell on her angry scrawl. 'Docks. Seemed to be settling down. Growled at Stiff and sent him flying here. You and Mac talking in code now, Detective?' He assumed that last part was the Freelander gal's addition.  
_

_"Thanks, doll," he called absently over his shoulder as he headed back out into the wind. "You've been swell."  
_

_Whatever answer she meant him to hear was lost as he pointed his feet towards the docks and began to work out a plan. Once he set his orbs on the pooch, he'd need to get a shout out to the leggy dame. Given the seedy locale the pup had decided to set up shop, it was going to take a bit of leg work to find a telephone. He'd picked a hell of a glamorous profession._

* * *

_Two hours later, he hung up on the growling man who'd answered the doll's number. Probably his grunt had meant that he'd get the skinny to the dame. Either that, or Zimmerman would shortly be floating down the river on his own float. Dead man's float, that is.  
_

_Deciding to be optimistic, he bought a finger of whiskey, neat, and tossed it back. Might as well meet his fate a little tight, it'd go over better than straight at this point. Giving a nod to the leery fella behind the bar, he retrieved his fedora and went to see if dawn would come for him again._

_He waited just outside of what he decided to call 'the kill zone' and stepped back into the shadows in case any mugs out for some night action happened to amble on by. When the long car pulled up on the street and killed the engine, he began to think that a strategic retreat might be on the cards, until a leg that he happened to have memorized already that evening slid out of the back seat.  
_

_He let her case the scene looking for him a moment longer, then stepped out of the shadows when she glanced in his direction.  
_

_"Nice carriage, Doc," he nodded over at the sleek car. "Roomy enough for your pup?"  
_

_"It shall be, if we can get to him," the dame raised her chin with a hint of challenge in her eyes. "You do know where he is, don't you?"  
_

_"Down there," he thumbed over towards the sheds huddled near the neck of the pier. "Doesn't sound too willing to be friendly, I gotta say."  
_

_"You can stay here," she said in a tone that was clearly used to being obeyed.  
_

_"It's my case, doll," he corrected, heading past her towards the sheds. "And I never have sent a gal in to do the dirty work alone and I don't plan on starting up the habit tonight."  
_

_"Very well," she caught up to him. "But do stay behind me. He knows me, not you. And the name is Doctor Magnus. Not 'doll.'"  
_

_"Sure thing, Doc," he agreed easily.  
_

_They paced up to the scene in silence, until they were close enough that the growling started up, then a few steps closer until Zimmerman was on a knife's edge waiting to toss this crazy dame behind him when whatever monster they were chasing attacked. Just before he felt ready to toss her over his shoulder and book like hell, she came to a halt.  
_

_"Henry?" she called.  
_

_What kind of loon names a dog 'Henry'? The question slid across his mind.  
_

_"It's alright. It's Dr. Magnus. Please come out of there. It'll be alright."  
_

_He'd never been much of a dog person. Near shaking with tension in the dark hours before morning, he was glad of that decision. In hindsight, he should have stuck with it.  
_

_Suddenly, a dark shape moved across the doorway of one of the sheds. Before he could focus on it enough to make out more than that it was the biggest dog he'd ever heard of, the thing came careening through the space separating it from them. On reflex, he moved, tossing the Doc behind him and pulling a knife. He heard cries from the Doc and a growl so close it sounded like a roar and then nothing at all._

* * *

_His head hurt. More than that, it felt like he'd gone on a bender so tight that he'd wake up both hungover and still drunk. What kinda night had he done for?  
_

_"Stay still," a cool voice spoke near his ear.  
_

_Until he'd heard the sentence, Zimmerman hadn't even known he'd been moving. Once he did, though, he kept it up. Maybe the doll at his ear knew what was shaking last night.  
_

_Prying open an eyelid, he looked up into a deep blue pair of glims right above him and the whole lost evening fell into place like a sack of bricks.  
_

_"The dog?" he struggled to sit up, only to take in the sight of his own office. "What the hell? Sorry, Doc," he apologized and winced at the same time, a hand going to his head.  
_

_"Quite all right. And Henry's safe now. Although it would have been better had you not felt the need to toss me out of the way," it sounded like a lecture, but the dame had a glint in her eye that didn't seem too upset.  
_

_"All in a day's work, Doc," he grinned as much as his head would let him.  
_

_"Yes, well I think," he focused in on the lips moving closer towards him with every passing second.  
_

_"Yeah?"  
_

_Her lips hovered by his ear, breath whispering over his face, "That you should wake up now."  
_

_"What?"  
_


	9. London VI

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Cold back. Brought friends. This is all I've got. :(

**Total Word Count: 16,017**

* * *

Will glared balefully at his alarm clock. Granted, he had been in the middle of one bizarre dream, but why did they always end at the good part?

Whoa. Shaking his head to drive his last thought out of his mind, he sat up and slammed the ringing off. He'd be an idiot to not realize how attractive his boss was, but thinking about her as a beautiful woman in conjunction with himself was a whole new set of problems. And what was up with flirting over the bar with oddly-cute-in-suspenders Declan?

Gah. Will pressed his face into his hands hard for a moment, trying to empty his mind. Okay, he told himself after he was halfway successful, people have these kinds of dreams all the time about others in their lives. It's the brain's way of processing random information from the subconscious. Besides, it's not like the three of you haven't done that dance before, so it's not exactly a surprise that you think they're hot. It doesn't mean anything weird, so don't start obsessing about it, got it?

"Got it," he muttered out loud. Raising his head to look at the time, he let out a snort. Yes, it had been strange, but still it was a pretty good dream. He solved the case and, maybe, got the girl. Maybe he should look in to getting a fedora?

Smiling, he climbed out of bed to get ready for his return Underground. So far, this day wasn't going so bad.


	10. London VII

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: One weekend of sleep + One course of antibiotics = One new chapter. I'm back! :) (Well, almost. Still a half-chapter is a step in the right direction!)

**Total Word Count: 17,184**

* * *

After his dreams the night before, it was perhaps more surprising than it should have been for Will to walk into the dining room and realize that yes, indeed, he was quite attracted to Declan. Responding to the man's open smile with a small one of his own, he spent the walk to the table locating his dream fedora and firmly stuffing his attraction underneath. He'd look under that hat later. Maybe much later.

"Good morning," Will smiled, while thinking decidedly non-suspender type thoughts.

"Morning," Declan frowned and Will wondered desperately for a moment if his thoughts were escaping his fedora and plastering themselves across his face. "Going to take on the route downwards in that?"

He blanked for a moment before following Declan's gesture to his clothing. Oh. Right.

"No," he motioned to his grungier than normal clothes. "I was helping out with the feedings this morning. I'll get something a bit sturdier for travel. Actually," he glanced towards the clock, "I should probably pack at some point too." Letting his face twist slightly at the notion, he reached for the carafe of coffee.

It got a laugh out of Declan before the conversation turned to last minute wrap-ups of the last two weeks projects and coordination details for more ongoing efforts. It wasn't until the dining room had cleared completely and they'd ran out of coffee that Declan finally stood to leave.

"I've got a meeting starting about the time you leave," he said apologetically. "I'd arrive a bit late, but Yoda gets testy about that."

"Yoda?" Will snorted. "She told you about that?" The incredulous tone was entirely deserved.

"Told?" Declan scoffed. "Vented, more like. Why would you tell any woman that she reminded you of a wrinkly, green, male creature?"

"It wasn't that part that made me think of it," Will protested. "It's just the whole Council thing and she's definitely the head of it all, so, you know, Yoda?" He faltered in his defense. "Did you at least tell her that he kicked ass in the prequels?" he finished weakly.

Declan shook his head, smirking, "My role was mainly a listening capacity." Will hung his head. "Hey, if the Heads are the Council members, then who am I?"

"I'll tell you if you help me out with her?" he tried his most winning smile.

"Nope," the answer came without a moment of hesitation. So much for that smile. "You're gonna have to dig your way out of this one on your own." Will stumbled a little at the hearty whack between the shoulder blades.

"Fine. Dooku," he mumbled. Then lurched sideways away from the finger at his ribs. Damn him for ever letting Declan figure out that he was ticklish.

"Go pack, young Skywalker," he intoned, proving that Magnus talked too much. "Let me know when you make it back Underground and tell Magnus," his voice trailed off for a moment until Will stopped in the middle of the hallway to look over at him curiously.

"Uh, that it's not quite the same only seeing her via telecon," he shrugged sideways, avoiding Will's eyes. "I always know where all my staff members are now that she doesn't sweep in and purloin them on a semi-regular basis. It's eerie."

Will grinned at the cover. In some respects, Magnus had never quite separated herself from the London Sanctuary and took liberties there she wouldn't imagine elsewhere. Such as relaying orders herself and not through the resident Head of House. Who might then bluster about interfering bosses and never actually get around to telling his staff not to follow her orders implicitly. Will had always enjoyed watching them happily bicker, with each of them perfectly aware that the exact same thing would play out the next time.

This humor did not, however, distract him from the pertinent bit in Declan's statement. Namely, that he missed Magnus. And, Will would bet the farm that he didn't mean in a completely professional sense. After all, the man had apparently convinced her to drink ale at some point.

"I'll pass that on," he said simply, "and then you can deal with her accusations about maligning her character."

At that, they exchanged grins. It hadn't taken either of them too long to figure out that Magnus loved few things more than a good argument. Particularly one that was fairly pointless and didn't really require winning. Will figured it was that rock solid competitive streak that she tried to pretend didn't exist.

When they reached the staircase, Will turned to head up to the inevitable packing and Declan held out his hand. Confused, Will took it and was pulled into a bro-hug that ended with a thump on the back and a fedora about ready to self-combust.

"Don't stay down there too long," Declan said and waved before heading down the hallway towards his office.

"What and miss all of London's wonderful weather?" Will called after him, reacting to the returned gesture with a cheeky grin before heading up to his suitcase.

* * *

The trip Down Under was peacefully uneventful, which gave Will plenty of time to contemplate his dream - and a certain incendiary fedora - at length.

Okay, obviously he had feelings for Declan. Or at least a strong desire to see the man in fewer clothes once more. Before he went further down the path where lay a fedora and suspenders, however, he really needed to take a step back.

Abby was still very much in his thoughts. Actually, thinking about Abby hurt, so he was in a tug-of-war between thinking about Abby and not-thinking about Abby, which was even more confusing.

So, as far as timing went, his pretty much sucked.

He needed time to heal from her, time to figure out if he wanted Declan because the man was amazing or because he knew that his feelings were, at least in some way, reciprocated. Time to puzzle out to what extent they were reciprocated and how he felt about Declan without the Abby-situation looming and what exactly he wanted out of this... thing. Some fun? His mind shied away from thoughts of anything more. Not exactly a sign of a healthy mental state.

So, yeah, some time would be good.

Magnus would probably let him stay Underground for awhile. He'd been bouncing around pretty much non-stop for months now and, truthfully, even without this hiccup, he could use some down time. Just not having to pack every couple of weeks would be a relief.

Right, he breathed out slowly. Just take some time away from Declan and the temptation to ignore all of his problems in exchange for a night or two. Declan certainly deserved better than that. Although if he just wanted some fun. Will frowned and stopped his thought mid-track. Bad fedora.

With a sense of relief, he approached the bio scanner and let himself back into the labyrinth. Maybe too much time alone with his thoughts was something to be avoided as well.


	11. Underground II

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: One day there will be a full chapter. Honest!

**Total Word Count: 18,334 **

* * *

Underground had not changed substantially in his absence as far as Will could tell and, while disappointing in the continued lack of navigational stripes, it was a pleasant surprise to feel his shoulders relaxing as he made his way towards the main complex. There was something to be said for an absence of the threat of SCIU.

Equally pleasant, if confusing, was the lack of back-piled files on his Underground Desk. Normally after an absence of a month, he'd be lucky to find his desk at all. After pausing to enjoy the rare sight of a completely cleared desk, he went seeking some answers. Underground, this wasn't a very hard task.

The design of the Underground Sanctuary, while perplexing to Will in some respects, did have its good points. For one thing, Magnus had clearly planned the office space with Will in mind as her Second. Unlike in Old City, their offices were next to each other, easily accessible for questions, comments, and tea breaks. Moreover, they were interconnected by a door, for which they'd established fairly simple rules. Open, more than welcome, closed meant privacy was desired and the only traffic better be essential news via the main hallway. So far, it was working well for them.

It also meant that Will's search for answers was a short jaunt through the open connecting door.

"Will," Magnus looked up with a smile as he poked his head around the frame. "Welcome back."

He returned the smile as he entered the room, but for a brief moment his mind replaced Magnus dressed in her usual classically professional style of skirt, blouse, and ungodly high heels with his dream-Magnus in the height of film noir vamp. Complete with that slit up to, um, high.

Will cleared his throat and studied the draperies above her head intently as he responded. "It's good to be back, although there's still a disturbing lack of stripes in the hallways."

"Imagine that," he looked back down at her droll tone and smiled at the glint in her eyes and the completely normal apparel. This was getting ridiculous. And if he stuffed anything else under that fedora it might explode.

"So, I also noticed that my desk is suspiciously clean," he lowered his eyebrows dramatically and decided to deal with things by completely ignoring anything fedora-related.

"There's a reason for that," she paused dramatically, "but it'll keep. Until tomorrow at the least," she added as he opened his mouth.

"Secrets?" Will frowned half-seriously. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Magnus dropped out of playful mode with a tilt of her head. "It's a potential mission, Will, to the former Sidney Sanctuary. One that you don't have to take and isn't finalized yet. The active time would be soon, however, and given your recent schedule, I thought that taking this time to recharge would be advisable."

"Are you even allowed to talk about vacations to other people?" he mused, entirely failing to suppress a smirk.

It earned him her patented Cheeky-Monkey Look. "You are aware that I could relocate all of your paperwork, correct?"

"A vacation sounds lovely," he said promptly with a disarming grin.

"Thought so," Magnus laughed. "If I could make a suggestion," she added, not even attempting to hide an evil smile, "you might use it to get better acquainted with the layout."

"If there were stripes, I wouldn't need to," he said instantly. "Or maybe just some markers like in the woods? Little crosses or something."

"Or I could let Henry go forward with his microchip idea," Magnus put in drily.

"Still not a pet," he managed with a completely straight face.

"Go," she pointed towards the door. "Before I change my mind and put you to work."

"Fine, fine," he held his hands up in surrender as he moved back towards the door. "I'll send you a report later so you can acquaint yourself with the concept of a 'day off.'"

Will was quite proud that he made it through the door before she could respond. Last word? For once, totally his.

* * *

All in all, it was a very pleasant day off once he got over the nagging feeling that he was supposed to be doing something. Rather than get lost on his own yet again, he tagged along with the afternoon feeding, made a brief stop by the library, then successfully made his way to the atrium and blissfully wiled away several hours reading something entirely unconcerned with a file, report, or case.

In the late afternoon, Will was rousted from his comfortable sprawl by hunger and wandered back into the main complex. After a few moments of indecision, he turned towards the offices again, hoping that Magnus would still be at tea. And wouldn't mind sharing.

"Back again? And without so much as a single SOS." From the still-steaming cup of tea on her knee, he decided to congratulate himself on his perfect timing.

"I took flares," he said, seating himself at her nod of approval, "just in case."

"If you light anything on fire," she warned, "I shan't be the only one with no concept of a day off."

Will snuck his hand towards a saucer even as he pasted a slightly worried look on his face. "What about just a small one? Tiny, really."

If he hadn't been scrutinizing her features, he would have missed the split-second of concern that passed over them before she recalled her better senses. He grinned before she could respond, and could tell by the roll of her eyes that Magnus knew she'd been caught out.

"I've a stack of paperwork over there with your name on it," she threatened.

"Did you come here for some reason?" she said around a smile, entirely ruining her stern tone.

"Not really the way to talk me out of pyromania," Will said, delighted beyond measure when he got a small snort out of her.

"Um, would you throw me out if I said lunch?" he tried, pulling his full saucer close to him just in case.

"Only if you don't have tea as well," she challenged.

"Hmm," he pretended to give it serious thought, gazing down at his saucer sadly.

Whatever response Magnus was going to make was lost in the buzz from her computer.

"I need to take this," she set her teacup down apologetically, rising from her chair.

Waving a hand to indicate 'of course,' Will took himself and his saucer towards the door. Before he could decide on a destination for his bounty, though, a thought occurred to him and he walked back to her desk. Writing a note on a loose piece of paper, he slid it across to Magnus who smiled and nodded in response.

With his own smile firmly affixed, he made his way back towards the atrium. Well, that was dinner plans all set then. What should he do in the meantime?


	12. Underground III

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: A full chapter at last! And a long one - we have a lot of lost time to make up for now!

**Total Word Count: 20,992**

* * *

Will took another feeding in the afternoon, this one in the mysterious eastern caverns. Despite his best efforts, there was still a bit in the middle where he could have sworn that the corridors magically rearranged themselves. At least he got the opportunity to sound out the two other team members on their opinions concerning striped hallways.

Best of all, with the help of his new co-conspirators, he made it back to his Underground Office in a reasonable period of time. Giving him long enough to draft a mock Day Off report for Magnus. Even the threat of paperwork was worth the appearance of that dimple – plus he had a reputation for 'cheekiness' to uphold.

With careful calculation, he set the report to be sent after they should already be at dinner. The less time that she had to plot revenge, the better, as far as he was concerned. After a moment's thought, he CC'd Declan as well. He would probably be greatly amused, even if that wouldn't impact his intervention in whatever comeuppance Magnus might have in store.

* * *

_Effective Date:_

_Recipient(s): Dr. Helen Magnus_

_CC: Declan MacRae_

_Report Title: Observations Upon the Utilization of the 'Day Off' Phenomena_

_Att: 'Day Off' Report (pdf file) _

_Abstract_

_The pursuit of the 'Day Off' phenomena (hereafter referred to as **A Day Off**) has been a long one for many in the Sanctuary organization (hereafter referred to as **The Sanctuary**). In the interests of fair and accurate reporting, Dr. William Zimmerman (hereafter referred to as **The Observer**) undertook a mission of infiltration to document heretofore unknown details of **A Day Off**. This reports serves to document these details with such observations as: A Question Upon Interactive Sightseeing, The Nature of Leisure Approached in Both the Interior and Exterior of a Domicile, Musings Upon the Procurement of Comestibles, and The Afternoon Nap: Postulations Upon Location and Length._

_Full report attached._

* * *

After he put the finishing touches on his mock report, he logged off the computer and settled back to wait for Magnus. His note hadn't been specific as to where or how or what dinner was to involve, but Will figured that by now the two of them were nothing if not excellent at improvisation. So it was that Magnus stepped through the interconnecting door to the sight of Will leaning out of his Underground Office window, squinting in the direction of the atrium.

"Should I ask?" brought him back inside, to turn and smile at her.

"I was thinking maybe a cold supper in the atrium, but it looks like it's raining over there right now."

"Yes, I believe a storm was scheduled for this evening," Magnus frowned in thought. "At this time, it should be less disruptive for residents."

"One day Henry will be able to explain that weather mapping program on a level I can understand," Will shook his head. "Probably sometime after he stops saying 'cool' every other word when I bring it up."

"Not any time soon, then," she laughed. "Has this entirely derailed our plans?" she ask archly.

"Not in the least. Just the location," he thought for a moment, gazing idly back out the window, until an idea crossed his mind. It was a little unconventional, for him, but it might work. "Come on," he gestured ahead of him towards the doorway to the main hall.

"At what point do I get to know our destination?" she asked, pausing a second so that they were walking side by side down the corridor.

"Where would the fun be in that?"

"Well, it can't be too far away," she surmised snidely, "or you wouldn't be so confident about reaching it."

"What was that? You wanted us to take the long way around?" Easily, he dodged the finger sneaking it's way towards his ribs. "Declan talks too much," he grumbled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Magnus said airily, stepping into the elevator ahead of him and ostentatiously not revealing how else she could have come to know that he was ticklish.

Will managed to shield his level selection from her eyes, but when they stopped at the first lower level, it was fairly obvious where they were heading.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say our destination is the kitchens?" she nudged him with a shoulder as they exited the elevator.

"You are terrible at being surprised, aren't you?" was all that he would say.

"Actually, yes," she admitted. "Pleasant ones, anyway. I always seem to stumble in on them."

"Stumble?" he pursued, intrigued.

"Hm. There was a surprise party planned for my 150th birthday," Magnus shrugged. "I'm still not certain why Henry thought I wouldn't notice the requisition for balloons, streamers, and an organ."

"An organ?" he repeated, before shaking his head. "Never mind. Perhaps it's not that you can't be surprised, just that you're surrounded by poor planners. Very poor," he reiterated, contemplating Henry filling out the requisition forms to hand over to the woman in question. He figured that the Big Guy must have smacked him upside the head but good that time. Letting the yawing pit in his stomach close again, the one that opened every time he was reminded that there would be no more slaps to the back of his head or unexpected three a.m. carafes of coffee, he opened the door for Magnus to a small, side kitchen, waving her through in his best impersonation of a flamboyant maitre d'. Stifling the smile that he could see in the stress of her lips and the flashes of her dimple, she passed him and leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen expectantly.

Carefully shutting the door behind them - and hoping that everyone stayed out of here and in the larger, main kitchens - Will pulled out one of the bar stools situated at random intervals around the island in invitation.

With a wary look, Magnus sat down, perching on the edge as though ready for anything. He managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

"You might want to get a little more comfortable than that," he remarked, rounding the island to rummage through one of the refrigerators.

"What are you doing?" she finally gave in and asked directly.

"I promised you dinner, right?" he turned around and pointed to the green pepper he held aloft. "So - dinner."

"You're going to cook?" If his mind wasn't venturing into the Land of Wishful Thinking, she actually sounded mildly impressed.

"That's the plan," he said, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Hm," she made no further comment, but Will could feel her watching him as he assessed the fridge and began pulling out vegetables and chicken.

"Can I help?" she offered tentatively as he lined up his culinary victims on the counter.

"It seems a bit mean to invite you to dinner and then make you work," he commented doubtfully.

"I think I can handle it," she smiled, sliding off of the stool to join him.

"If you're sure," he glanced at her sidelong, "then I could put those surgical skills to good use." He presented her with a paring knife and a cutting board with a flourish.

She gave him a humoring look, but set to the vegetables deftly, cubing them into exacting squares. Apparently he'd been more right about the crossover of her skill set than he'd thought.

"Huh," he watched her expert movements for a moment. "Do you cook often?" If so, he considered, then this might not be as novel as he was hoping.

"No," she glanced over at him with a smile. "Never. I've never really learned how - and the few recipes that I have tried over the years haven't turned out exactly as planned."

"Well, it takes some practice," he assured over his shoulder as he got the rice cooker going. "Your chopping technique is impeccable, though."

"Glad that I'm coming in handy," she quipped, concentration returning to her growing piles of chopped vegetables.

Will busied himself at the sink, tending to the chicken, so that he almost missed Magnus' question.

"Sorry?" he turned off the spray of the water as the last few words drifted over.

"I asked how often you cook," she repeated. "You seem to know your way around a kitchen." The curiosity coloring her tones made him smile. It seemed to be so rare that he actually got to surprise her with anything.

"I cook when I can," he shrugged. "I've always found it relaxing. You combine certain ingredients in certain ways and the outcome is always the same. Or you can vary a recipe slightly and get something wholly different. Add cinnamon to meat and it sweetens it, add it to a cake for spice instead." Will realized that he was babbling on a bit and cleared his throat before ending awkwardly, "So, yeah, it's kind of a hobby."

"I can understand that," Magnus said quietly after a moment. "James used to mix his own base ingredients in the lab to settle his nerves. And my father would mentally tally the Fibonacci sequence. There's a comfort in consistency."

"And what about Helen Magnus?" Will asked tentatively, finishing up on the chicken and swiftly putting the sauce together. "Where does she find consistency?"

After a heavy pause, during which he nervously wondered if he'd pressed too far, she admitted, "Normally, I list the components of an anatomy. Start at the bones and work out through the muscular and nervous systems. Of late, though, I've also found myself waiting on a certain evening call."

A beat before Will would have immortalized himself as a complete idiot by asking who she was waiting on, the penny dropped. He gave himself enough time that the shock wouldn't show in his voice before replying.

"Me too," he said slowly. "I'd wondered if I was wrecking havoc with your schedule, but my phone just seemed to dial itself."

"You aren't. Wrecking havoc, that is. Well," she continued with a deliberate return to their usual banter, "no more than usual, anyhow."

"Says the woman I refuse to get in another plane with," he let the moment pass easily. Time enough to analyze it later.

"I don't recall having this problem before you came along," she retorted. "Perhaps it's not me."

"The helicopter in the Indian Ocean was all you," he pointed out, missing her reply as he rummaged through the lower cupboards. "Ah hah!" Victorious, he emerged with a wok.

"Stir fry?" Magnus said, unexpectedly at his shoulder. Startled, he almost dropped the wok, managing to instead get it on the counter with only a slightly loud impact.

"Uh, hi," he half-grinned into the eyes close to his, "yes. You do like stir fry, right?" Will could have sworn that was what she'd always ordered when they had take-out nights, but in a sudden bout of nervousness, all confidence abruptly deserted him.

"Love it," she answered, grinning back. "Your vegetables await," she gestured over to the counter.

"Really?" Will peered past her to see neatly separated piles of chopped vegetables. "Wow. That's impressive," he thought for a moment, then added, "and a little scary."

"Good," she said simply, giving him an evil grin as she stepped back and made her way towards her former seat at the island.

"Yeah, not really helping the scary part," he muttered, smiling at the clear laugh behind him. Focusing, he moved the tray of vegetables over near the range and started getting things fired up.

The beep of the rice cooker and the optimum point of the stir fry managed to come almost simultaneously, for which Will was deeply grateful. This was definitely a good time for the Cooking Gods to align in his favor. Heaping the rice and stir fry in a, hopefully, attractive manner on two stone plates, Will turned towards the island and blinked in surprise. Apparently Magnus had taken it upon herself during his stirring frenzy to set the table - or island, as the case was - complete with silverware, napkins, and wine glasses.

To his amazement, and complete adoration, Magnus looked up at him through her lashes with a shy smile, "I hope this wasn't too presumptuous. That smelled too delicious to wait on, though."

"Not at all," Will smiled softly himself, completely transfixed by an uncertain Magnus. "It looks wonderful." He settled the plates down before their seats and turned the wine bottle so that he could see the label. "I'd say this was perfect, but you already know that when it comes to wine," he shrugged, "it's all grape to me." Expectantly, he looked up to catch her reaction with a grin.

Attempting to hide a snort behind a raised hand, she deliberately huffed a resigned laugh as she took her seat and picked up a fork, pointing it at him, "You are no longer allowed to say anything about my jokes. That was terrible."

"You laughed," he pointed out smugly.

She forbore from replying, instead giving him an I'm-Amused-But-I-Refuse-To-Admit-It Look and turning her attention to pouring the wine. Will didn't even attempt to act knowledgeable as he tasted his glass. While he could never compare to her, or others she had known in the past, in this area, it had never seemed to matter. He didn't feel the need to pretend to be something he was not - which was just as well, because he was generally fairly terrible at that anyway.

"I like it," he offered simply.

"Good," she tasted her own glass, smiling slightly. "I think it will work well with stir fry."

Will picked up his fork, but got no further than placing the tines on top of the plate, nervously watching Magnus instead. He was pretty sure that she would compliment him no matter how terrible it truly tasted, so he watched her face instead. At the first bite, her eyes widened slightly before closing and the corners of her mouth curved upwards. Relieved, Will dug his own fork into his plate and tried it himself. It was one of his favorite stir fry sauces, with an even balance of hot and sweet. Luckily, it had turned out in the best way this time.

"This is delicious, Will," Magnus' eyes seemed to glow a little as she praised the dish. "Where did you learn how to make it?"

Relaxed now that the verdict was in, he related the tale, playing up his early mishaps in order to provoke a laugh. In his entirely biased opinion, dinner was a complete success and they touched little on work as their plates cleared.

In lieu of the dessert that Magnus rarely indulged in, he fired up the electric kettle and produced the bag of loose cinnamon apple tea that he had smuggled down from London.

"That never ceases to amaze me," she admitted as he set the teapot between them to steep.

"What, this?" he motioned towards the tea. "If this is all it takes, I have been trying way too hard over the years."

"Probably," she said, looking at him with undeniable fondness in her eyes. "You amaze me just by being yourself."

Will could feel a blush heating his cheeks and looked at the wood surface of the table to hide from the knowing gleam in her eyes. "Well, you're a pretty tough act to follow," he said, looking back up at her. With a shy smile of his own, he admitted, "I don't think I've stopped being amazed by you since you hit me with your car."

Luckily, before the moment could turn awkward, the timer buzzed and he concentrated on the tea service with gratitude.

"I think you'll like this blend," he said, pouring a steaming cupful for her. "I brought it back from London from during my forced tea indoctrination."

With an unrepentant smile, Magnus pulled the cup towards herself, "Then I see that it did you a world of good."


	13. Underground IV

Disclaimer: I own nothing and profit none.

A/N: Okay, so clearly I fail at NaNoWriMo. But I got about halfway there! (Do I get points for that? No?)

I'm still determined to finish it out, though, and I hereby declare this chapter to be the end of Part One. Part Two will be in January with the same deal: 2,000 words a day and never say die. Maybe with a little practise I'll do better next November! (Yes?)

**Total Word Count: 23,024**

* * *

Late in the evening, Will was digging through his closet by the twin lights of the Underground Moon shining through his bedroom window and the glow of the lamp on the table. Hands down, the best part of the new Sanctuary was that Magnus had designed his room with some incredible form of insulation. The perennial freeze of stone floors and walls was all but non-existent, at least in his room. Henry's was noticeably cooler, which made Will wonder exactly what had been done to his room. It was on a long list of questions, however, the answers to which were coming to him, though slowly and often only prompting further questions.

Tonight, however, the temperate nature of his rooms was only a consideration of the periphery of his mind. Most of his concentration was taken up by the somewhat battered box he managed to unearth from its deliberate hiding spot underneath a stack of blankets in the back corner of the wardrobe. Frowning unconsciously, he hefted the box and moved to the bed where he settled it next to him, then proceeded to ignore it as he stared out of the window.

Dinner had been a delight, warmth and laughter and everything he could want out of an evening. Playacting at chivalry, Will had walked Magnus back to her rooms at the end of the evening, although he would hazard a guess that she would wind up back in her office before the morning. At her door, though, there had been a moment.

Will closed his eyes and could feel the expectant weight of that moment even now. He knew without a single word or even glance that should he step forward, slide a hand into those soft curls, and seek a kiss, it would be granted. Moreover, returned. With interest.

He'd hesitated, glancing at her lips, before his higher senses kicked in. With a rueful smile, he had leaned in to lightly brush for cheek with a soft kiss before they exchanged quieted goodnights.

How many people could say that they had the same problem on two continents? Will chuckled humorlessly. His plan to stay away from Declan until he regained a sense of equilibrium wasn't going to work out very well if he fell for Magnus instead. What was wrong with him?

His frown deepening, he rose from the bed to pace. Was he just looking for someone to be there for him, to assuage the pain of losing Abby and their future? Was he trying to just replace her role in his life, rather than face the old fear of being always alone?

He didn't think so. Not entirely. His feelings for Declan and Magnus predated Abby, after all. But until he could say no, absolutely, then he really had no business pursuing either of them. They deserved better than to be a rebound or a crutch.

Still, he huffed a breath, falling back onto the bed, now what? Exile in New York? Or, there was that mysterious assignment that might happen, down in Sydney. Or would that be up, from Underground?

Shaking his head to pull his thoughts away from silly directional arguments, he mapped out his plan. Mysterious assignment, failing that, New York. Got it.

Determined, he sat back up and pulled the not-forgotten box towards himself, popping the flaps open. Cherry and jasmine spilled out into the open air from the tumble of a scarf and a handful of photos hiding further layers in the box. Hurriedly, Will closed it once more.

Sitting nearly motionless, but for one hand tapping gently against the cardboard side, he let the memories come, then gently dismissed them. They were the past and, one day, he would be able to face them and move on. Then, maybe, he would deserve to try again.

* * *

The morning dawned far too early, even with the re-closed box' return unto the shadowy depths of the closet, but Will took his scant few hours of sleep and headed for the morning meeting. This at least was the same as before, the early promise of the day before Magnus had the chance to fill them in on the latest craziness. Although the meeting itself was quite different, the size of the Sanctuary and the accommodation of the staff from so many defunct Sanctuaries made a total personnel meeting unfeasible. The morning meetings now were Magnus and the House Heads, with Declan and Anya teleconferencing in, and sometimes Will. Later meetings would take place between the Heads and the staff in their jurisdiction of duties. It was all rather complicated on the surface, but once Will had wrapped his mind around the layers, it did seem to be working. It helped that on Fridays there was one long meeting for all the staff, which always turned into an extended social affair.

It was surprisingly nice, overall. Will had been worried when he'd first been brought into the scope of Magnus' secret plans that his old world, the family that he'd spent a lifetime searching for, was at an end. In time, however, it instead felt as though he'd simply gained a larger, extended family. Which, in fact, was a feeling that he was supposed to foster among all residents down under, he had been informed by Magnus. The Underground was not just a Sanctuary, but a large, communal city and a home for all its inhabitants. Part of his responsibilities was to ensure that it remained a home and not an institution or a prison, a job that he had willingly embraced.

For now, though, he admitted reluctantly as he settled into his customary seat to Magnus' right, his presence would undoubtedly hurt his task more than help. In a city of mostly sensitive and largely Abnormal residents, it never took very long for people to notice tension between their two fearless leaders. Or, he mentally amended, sneaking a glance at Magnus absorbed in her notes for the meeting, their fearless leader and her faithful Tonto. Whom he still suspected had an easier time of things.

"Do you have your plans for the exchange idea with you?" The fearless leader in question pulled him from his thoughts. "There's room for it on the agenda if you're prepared."

"Yeah," he pulled a folder from his stack. "This would be a good time, actually, we're at the point where input from the outside could help streamline things. A general reaction might be good to have too," he continued, half to himself, "people need time to consider the idea."

"I don't anticipate any reluctance," she contributed, "but there may well be questions concerning logistics, so there's no time like the present." Making a note on the agenda sheet, she succumbed to her piles of paper once more. Will granted himself one fond smile at her busy, interested expression before turning to review his own notes as the other resident Heads trickled into the room.

Overall, the meeting proceeded as smoothly as usual. There were the usual tussles between departments that Will could practically script by now and he managed to veer the agenda a bit off course himself by innocently raising the question of striped hallways, a motion that was tabled by Magnus after the ensuing fifteen minute debate with a Look that promised further retribution, but it was largely orderly. The floor was turned over to him and Anya for the introduction of the rotation proposal without incident, although Will could read as clear as day the glance that spoke volumes about consequences should the word 'stripe' make even a passing appearance in his brief. He smirked at her, just enough to keep her worried, but he had no real intentions towards mischief. This project was of importance to him as well as Anya and the whole of the Sanctuary, more than enough reason to keep in grounded in the serious. But there was no need for her to know that, if thinking otherwise might keep her amused.

He began his prepared spiel and, in his entirely biased opinion, the matter went off like hotcakes. He and Anya spent a hectic twenty minutes fielding questions and another ten posing their own, until the body gave them permission to draft a finalized implementation plan with the points mentioned for approval.

Will contented himself with only one arch look in Magnus' direction before the meeting moved on.

Which was probably just as well, as what the meeting moved on to was the mysterious assignment in Sydney. Although, to be fair or unfair as the case might be, the only person in the room it was a mystery to was him, apparently. Maybe he should have thrown in a comment about stripes, after all.

All in all, he considered as the details were laid out, it couldn't have been better if it were tailor-made for him. Which given the source, he abruptly considered, it might have been. Will cast several covert glances Magnus-ward, but if she had arranged this trip she was playing it close to the vest and pretending an interest as deep as a marginally involved party.

Far too sneaky for her own good, that one, he resolved to remember that for the future. Of course, he'd resolved similar notes a score of times in the past to no effect, but maybe this time would do the trick.

In any case when the Council agreed on the plan and offered it to him, Will said with sincerity that he would be glad to take the mission. Several months spent organizing and finalizing affairs concerning the relay of abnormals from Australia without the Sydney Sanctuary was exactly what he needed.

Just to be safe, he shot Magnus an extra smile with a knowing brow after the agenda had moved on. She pretended to ignore him. Will might even have been taken in by it, if he hadn't seen the twitch of her lips that she couldn't quite suppress and the momentary appearance of a dimple. So busted.

One good turn did deserve another - or revenge was a sweet dish. Whichever cliche came into play, he motioned discreetly for Declan to remain connected as the Heads filed out of the room. Magnus, naturally, remained behind when she spotted him lingering purposefully near her chair.

"Yes?" she asked, returning to lean against the back of it as Yusuf cleared the door last, leaving them in relative peace. "Did you have questions about Sydney?"

"Nope," he denied blithely before motioning towards Declan's display. "Someone told me that he missed you when I left London," he dropped into the suddenly dead silent room, "and I don't think it was your habit of stealing personnel that he meant."

"Will," both chimed in almost as one with equally exasperated tones.

"She misses you too," he ignored them both to speak to Declan, "and I'm guessing for more than your 'infuriating arguments'." Giving both visages, which were determinedly Not Blushing, a broad grin he slipped out of the door before they could come to some unspoken agreement about killing him.

Satisfied that they would talk around things in a manner clear only to the two of them not that he'd gotten the ball rolling, Will hummed a little as he headed to his Underground Office. He needed to set things in order for an extended absence when he would be reachable only electronically. He should probably also take a stab at packing afterwards. Surely he would soon be too busy to be morose or anxious and that could only be a good thing. Likely he wouldn't even need the full time in Sydney to get a grip on himself once more.

The Underground Sun was lighting a brilliant swath across the floor of his office when he arrived, turning the entire room into a treasure of warm hues and cheerful glimmers of color. None of it registered with Will, however, as he stepped over the threshold and realized that he had been humming a song from what seemed a lifetime ago. A desperate song, bourne from love and delivered on top of a tower now nothing more than rubble.

Maybe he could leave for Sydney tonight.

* * *

End Part One


End file.
